


An Endless Hope

by Incoherentbabblings



Category: Batgirl (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Adventure, Chaptered, Coming of Age, F/M, Fairy Tale Retellings, Magic, Plus Duke because I can, Post-Canon, Pre-New 52, Romance, Stephanie Brown-centric, Symbolism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:40:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 40,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26029591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Incoherentbabblings/pseuds/Incoherentbabblings
Summary: After a horrendous blizzard falls over Gotham, Tim undergoes a sharp change in character before disappearing. Upon discovering what has become of him, Stephanie sets off on a solo journey in a magic realm to bring him home, meeting some faces who seem awfully familiar along the way.A retelling ofThe Snow Queenby Hans Christian Anderson.
Relationships: Stephanie Brown/Tim Drake
Comments: 44
Kudos: 70





	1. A Storm Rolls In

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This fic has been sitting in my head for over a year, and now I have finally got to it! Aren't you glad hoho. 
> 
> I wanted to write a Steph centric fic, and I wanted to have a go at writing something which an actual plot where the characters move from A to B. The Snow Queen is my favourite fairy tale, always has been, and it features a story about leaving childhood behind and growing up and trauma and a cute relationship and a female lead and... I wanted to...write this. So here we are.
> 
> If you have read the Snow Queen you know how this is gonna go. I hope I put enough of my own writing and batfam into the story to not make it seem like a straight up copy and paste. 
> 
> Updates will likely be once a week, and having said that, I hope you enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce's birthday is coming soon, and Tim and Stephanie discuss growing older as they hunt for presents.

_You said to me, "It won't be long now_  
_You'll leave the world and you will join me here"_  
_My flesh is afraid but I am not_  
_'Cause love now is only the pain of needing_

_They took your smell, they took your shadow_  
_And I'm searching through faces for someone familiar_  
_I clawed and I clawed, but I couldn't find you there_  
_You wouldn't wake, I couldn't sleep for years_

_The Waves Have Come_ by Chelsea Wolfe

* * *

“Can’t believe he’s gonna be forty-five.”

“I know, right?”

“Bruce’ll be an old man soon.”

Tim tutted, herding Stephanie down an aisle with the metal cart he was pushing. “Don’t tell him that.”

Stephanie scoffed. “What? Has he got a younger clone of himself in a giant egg somewhere ready to pop when someone utters those words?”

Tim stopped pushing the cart, turned ninety degrees, and gave Steph an indescribable look.

“I was being sarcastic, Tim.”

Tim said nothing, then slowly rotated back to push the empty cart, Stephanie trailing behind.

They’d gone to the garden centre because Stephanie was willing to look everywhere and anywhere for inspiration for Bruce’s upcoming birthday. Tim, ever dutiful, followed along. It was a rubbish time of year to go to a garden centre – late January – as the entire place was filled with on sale Christmas decorations and half dead flowers that would no doubt complete their journey to the grave if buried in the frigid soil. The poor choice of plants was reflected in the number of customers, of which there were maybe three others trailing up and down the greenhouse aisles.

“I guess that’s not fair,” Stephanie continued to voice to the relative silence, only the distant tinny music and the dodgy wheel squeaking as they rolled along filled the lulls in conversation. “That would make Alfred positively decrepit.”

“And that he is not.” Tim said very firmly.

“No…Oooh?” Stephanie became distracted. “Oh, Tim look at these!”

Heaving the cart round the corner after her with an almighty sigh, he found her standing next to small potted flowering plants. Stephanie was pilfering through them, looking for particular colours.

Tim peered at one of the little cards slotted in the soil and chortled.

“Roses? Really? Steph I’m not sure roses are gonna cut it for Bruce’s forty-fifth.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that you big baboon—”

“’Scuse you.”

“– I’m looking at these for us, not him.”

Tim gazed at Stephanie. Stephanie, in her bright blue hand knitted beanie that she had made for herself over the Christmas break to distract from finals. Stephanie, in an oversized fluorescent plastic jacket (the kind that belonged in an early episode of Power Rangers) that somehow managed to make her look twice as wide than she truly was. Stephanie, with her flushed cheeks from the cold and little pearly teeth showing off in a big grin, golden hair bunched up into two pigtails that fell down her back.

Tim couldn’t help it; he melted a little at the sight of her.

“You’re staring.” She murmured, not looking away from her task.

Tim sucked on his teeth. “Maybe I want to. That allowed?”

“Sure. You have my permission.”

“Gracious.”

Tim pecked her on the cheek, causing Stephanie to laugh like a snorting pig. With a little happy noise, she found the two plants she wanted. One lilac and one deep red bunch. They didn’t look like ordinary roses to Tim, not like the kind you would pick up from a convenience store in a small bundle for an anniversary. No, these roses were flatter and broader, and he could see a number of buds on both sets of plants.

“I want these.” Stephanie said. “Help me pick two nice boxes to put them in?”

“Do we have space on the windowsill?”

They didn’t have a garden. Not truly. Though Tim’s apartment did allow roof access, it was not really the place to be growing a little garden. They also didn’t really have a balcony to fill with plant pots. Places for greenery were limited in their home.

“They’ll fit.”

Tim nodded, and she sat them down in the cart. A moments silence passed, and she pouted.

Sighing, Tim breathed, “What is it?”

“Ask me why I want them.”

Nodding with his entire torso, Tim moved off, heading towards glazed plant pots and boxes.

“Why do you want them?”

“’Cause they’re pretty.” She skipped after him and saw as he ran his tongue along his teeth, amused at her glib nature. “Aaaaaand, I wanna do an experiment.”

“Experiment?”

“Yes. I gathered you like those.”

“Steph.” His tone was a gentle warning.

“’Kay, ‘kay. Sorry. I just thought…” She paused, tapping her nails against a terra cotta pot. The sound was nice to listen to. “Well, you know how people say you should live together before you get married? To make sure you can actually stand being around each other twenty-four-seven?”

Tim clenched his jaw and nodded. “Yes?”

Stephanie said nothing, gnawing her lip. Tim tried to comfort her, to reassure her, by smiling, but even he felt it come across more like a grimace. Setting the empty pot back down, Steph leaned over and selected two narrow glazed boxes, ones long and slim enough to slot on their windowsill.

“It’s the same with kids. You gotta do a test run first. A proper test run. And I don’t mean what I did when I was fifteen.” She laughed uncomfortably, then looked very sad. Tim went to grab her hand, but she snatched it back and snorted, bravado back in place. “It’s a challenge. We can’t have a kid until we can keep a pet –”

Tim couldn’t help it, he finally butt in, exclaiming, “Who said we’re having children?”

But Stephanie soldiered on, “—And we can’t keep a pet until we can look after a plant. Both of us.”

“I… I’m nineteen Steph. We can get a plant in ten years or so.”

_Weird conversation._

Stephanie sighed, setting the plant pots in the cart. “I feel old. Much older than twenty sometimes.”

“We’ve been through more than what some people experience in a lifetime.”

She patted his cheek. “I guess so.”

“You can still be a kid.” Tim said later as they loaded up his car. No luck with finding anything for Bruce, but at least their living room windowsill would look nice. “There’s no timeline for this kind of stuff. Well, in your own head at least… society may side eye it but honestly –”

Stephanie slapped the trunk down with a loud slap and changed the subject. “I’ll think of something else. Don’t suppose he’d want a scarf or anything?”

“If you made him one Steph, I’d think he’d like that.”

“Huh.” They both got in the car, Tim in the driver’s seat, Stephanie googling nearby craft stores. “There’s a thought. I can pick up some nice wool round campus on Monday.”

Tim paused after he lit the ignition, eyebrows furrowed in thought. A moment passed, then he turned the car back off, and rotated to look Stephanie in the eye. Warily, she watched him.

“You mean it,” He asked, “about the whole plant thing?”

She growled, growing defensive. “I want to look after something and do it well. Sue me that it’s just starting off with a plant.”

“No, no. I get that. I mean do you not feel like a kid anymore?”

The bubbling anger melted away, and she cooed sympathetically. “Do you?”

“Did I ever?” Huffing, he tapped the steering wheel, then he looked distinctly guilt ridden. “No. That’s not fair. I did. Especially compared to you.”

“My childhood was mediocrely bad, Tim, but I did have one.” She tugged his earlobe. Tim frowned at her downplaying her pain, as always. It was impossible to get her to be serious about herself nowadays. Tim’s pain she took seriously. Cassandra’s pain she took seriously. _Damian’s_ pain she took seriously. Her own pain though… “No comparing hurt. How does that help you or me?”

“I know, I know,” He conceded. Then he was silent, musing something still.

Stephanie’s hand moved from his ear to his jaw, cradling it. Lowering her tone, she asked,

“Where’s your head taken you?”

“I’m gonna be twenty this July.”

“Mhhmm! It’s a big one. The end of your teenage years.”

“I just… don’t know if we’ve got to do everything we should have done. I mean, so much of our adolescence was taken up with…” He trailed off. “And what makes an adult an adult anyway? I mean, look at Bruce.”

“I try not to.”

Tim actually giggled. “I just mean, he has the emotional maturity of a ten-year-old.” A sudden idea came to Tim, and he perked up in his usual manner once hit by his clever notions. “Hey, how about we travel over the summer?”

“What?”

Tim started the car back up and began the drive to his apartment on Park Row.

“It’s your final year at college, and you’ll be turning twenty-one in August. I’ve got my twentieth in July. Let’s do one last hurrah. Go to Disneyland.”

As they exited the parking lot Stephanie burst out laughing.

“Is that what childhood is? A trip to Disneyland?”

“No!” He exclaimed, face red. “No, that’s not what I meant… I just mean… I just mean…”

“Be selfish for a while. Forget all those responsibilities for a few weeks?”

“Yeah. You deserve that.” Breathing a sigh of relief, he smiled. Stephanie had a knack for cutting through to the bone of an issue. She understood what he was trying to say.

“So do you.” She smiled and tapped his cheek fondly, then settled in for the drive.

They got stuck for twenty minutes trying to cross from one island to another, but it didn’t bother either of them. Stephanie playfully being bad at singing at whatever nineteen eighties anthem came on over the radio. Tim knew she was just playing. She was as good a singer as she was a pianist – unpractised and a little clumsy – but it caused Tim to stop and watch every time. Her screeching to _Take on Me_ was not her best effort, but it made Tim smile all the same.

She snatched the keys and rushed inside when they got back, leaving Tim to trundle behind her, balancing pots and flowers in his arms.

“I seriously have to look after this plant?” He moaned. With a grunt he got down on the floor by the window, setting everything out in place.

“Yes,” muttered Stephanie, throwing towels on the floor and reading instructions online of how to transfer plants from pot to pot. She had thought ahead – for once – and realised that maybe flinging dirt around would damage the living room rug.

Stephanie had moved into his apartment last August, about four months after they had returned to being a couple. For honest and goodness for real this time.

Dick and Babs had made many a teasing (but fond) comment. Cassandra and Duke had been happy, but largely unaffected by the decision. Damian had not been impressed. Jason really didn’t care.

Bruce had said nothing, which was somehow more worrying than his usual disapproving grunts.

So they had, for the most part, been left to it. Stephanie had swiftly turned the apartment (and the Nest) into as much her space as Tim’s. He didn’t mind, as she had a knack for clutter which made the town house feel less like a base and more like a home. Nothing made him feel more happy than coming home from Wayne Enterprises to see Steph sat on the floor, battered laptop on the coffee table, highlighted pages and mugs scattered everywhere, as she screwed up her face trying to write another essay on John Locke and Jean Jacques Rousseau’s theories on social contracts. The normality was an anchor, one he had so desperately needed in recent years.

Stephanie, meanwhile, had relished the chance to have her own space. To leave her mother had been hard, harder than she had realised at first, but it wasn’t like she wasn’t on the phone with her twice a week, and still compelled to attend scrabble night every Friday (Tim semi reluctantly in tow occasionally). She just hadn’t realised how difficult it would be to leave again. Even if it was, this time, under totally normal circumstances. Every kid has to move out, right? And it’s not like she’d never see her mother again, right? Stephanie’s mother was an adult, she could take care of herself. Steph wasn’t needed to watch her night and day.

But still, there were days when she craved her mother’s morning waffles, or warm shaky hugs.

Tim was a pretty good substitute though.

Speaking of, Tim crawled over to her, snuggle bug that he was, not so subtly looking for affection. He grabbed one of her pigtails and tugged the elastic off so he could braid her hair. She really had let it grow to a ridiculous length, long enough for Bruce and Babs both to chide her. One day it would get caught, or someone would grab it, or it would catch fire or something. The honest reason for letting it grow was…well it was embarrassing and shallow.

Steph sat quietly, letting Tim very carefully and methodically Dutch braid her hair, as she read. Even now, after several months reunited, she could tell he was still testing boundaries. Not just with what she was comfortable with, but also himself. Casual intimacy. Frightening stuff. Well, maybe for him. Steph adored the attention and giving attention in return. Tim’s affections were not to be tolerated, or even endured. They were something to enjoy and indulge in. They were something to grow obsessively fond over, especially after the dry spell of their late teen years. She had got it back and was not going to let it go again so easily.

So, she let him hold her hand whenever he reached for it. She let him lean against her during long hours of stakeout during patrol. She let him kiss her whenever he wanted. She wanted it too. Constantly. Like she was playing catch up with the last three years.

Tim finished one braid then shuffled around so he could start the second. Stephanie sat still until he finished his task, then signalled for him to pay attention as she moved her lilac roses into their new home. He observed carefully, as Tim never half-assed anything, then he cautiously began to pack fresh soil into his glazed box. Stephanie watched him and his concentrated face. Furrowed brows, chewed lips, unsure but steady fingers. Very slow. Very methodical. Textbook job.

He looked at her when he was done though, expectant of some sort of comment. Still desperate for approval.

“Good.” She said, raising her eyebrows. She sat the two boxes on the windowsill, slotting them into place. “Now don’t let it die.”

* * *

“Before you all head out for the night, I believe you have some gifts that require opening Master Bruce.”

Bruce peered over the half-eaten slice of cake Alfred had baked yesterday evening and swallowed dryly.

“Right.”

Tim could tell Bruce was just a little disappointed at the showing for his birthday. He would never admit it, no, no, but still. Dick, Jason, and Babs’ absence was noted. They had been good though and posted their presents ahead of time. Well, Dick and Babs had. Jason had sent a card. Which was both more than he had done some years and less for others, so the family all took a card as a good thing. Babs had wrapped up a large basket of bat memorabilia that would unironically get usage up and downstairs.

Dick had forwarded a photo album. Bruce’s lower lip had wobbled (once) on the first page, then he did not look any further into the album and shut it. Probably would cry over it at four am later this morning bundled up in bed. Or at least that’s what Tim imagined he would do.

Cassandra had made an actual teapot during her day classes. It was very cute, albeit just a little lumpy. Damian had done a painting. Duke had bought a pair of nice cufflinks. Tim had been as subtle as a brick to a glass greenhouse and had bought two vouchers for a fishing trip. Bruce had noted to check his diary tomorrow, hearing the pleading in the present for alone time.

Stephanie rested her present reverently on the table in front of Bruce. He eyed it and her a little suspiciously, which Tim tried not to get offended over on Steph’s behalf. He knew she had worked stinking hard on the present. Harder than anything she had ever made for herself. Not as hard as the gloves she had made Tim late last year though. No, he had seen her cursing up a storm trying to get those black and red fingerless mittens right, but she had – just in time for Christmas.

Point was, Stephanie worked hard when she sewed/knitted/embroidered, and Tim hoped Bruce wouldn’t do anything too callous when he opened the gift.

She had indeed knitted a grey-blue zig zag patterned scarf. It was thick, warm, and long. She had carefully embroidered the edges with golden thread. It was nothing short of a labour of love.

Bruce saw this, did the thing where his lip quivered, and quietly thanked Stephanie.

“Happy Birthday!” She replied, smiling brightly.

“It’s very well made.”

“I tried.” She teased gently. Tim squeezed her hand.

“Can I see?” Duke asked, to which Bruce handed it over. Duke whistled. “Can I get one too?”

“Sure.” Stephanie shrugged, still grinning. “It will cost you though.”

“Aw, no fair.”

The wind picked up then, howling louder than it had all day. The windows of the manor creaked, and even in the dark, everyone could see the sudden blizzard that had begun.

“Snow?” Cass asked. “Since when?”

“The weather does that. It changes.” Duke noted with a shrug. Even so, he seemed to regret speaking the more the wind screamed.

“No. Not like this. Rain sure. Sleet sure. Not a blizzard.” Tim peered out the window. “That doesn’t come from nowhere.”

Tim watched as there was already a solid layer of ice on the floor, the snow less like fluffy crystals and more like hail. The skies above churned rolled up clouds. It was harsh and ugly.

“No way.” Duke murmured, seeing the weather deteriorate.

Stephanie did not miss Bruce silently sigh at his pile of presents, the physical proof of how fortunate his life had become in recent years, despite the sometimes oppressive setbacks. It was just a moment, then the Bat was in place.

“Let’s head out. This doesn’t look natural. Split up and hunt for causes. Manmade or otherwise. Help anyone who seems stranded.”

Damian finally piped up. “Are we splitting into pairs?”

He crept towards Stephanie. Without Dick in Gotham she remained the person he was most keen (if Damian could be such a thing) to work alongside. Bruce notwithstanding.

“Damian go with Duke. Cassandra with me. Stephanie and Tim.”

_Well never mind._

Stephanie pinched Damian’s cheek, and he groaned and twitched away, running downstairs.

They all made their way to the cave, Alfred opening up the clock, when Stephanie looked back, seeing Tim was still stood, still as a statue, watching through the glass.

“Tim?” She called.

His right hand twitched, hanging limp next to his thigh, at the sound of her voice. Almost reluctantly, he replied,

“…Yeah?”

“Ready to go?”

She held out her hand for him to take, though he was still looking out the window. Slowly he turned at the hips, head remaining still, staring at the storm. When her hand found his, he shuddered, like the warmth of her fingers and palm shot straight through his arm and up through his chest and head. He finally whipped round to look at her and smiled tightly.

“Ready. Sorry.”

Stephanie said nothing and pulled him away from the window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Time:
> 
> _“I’ve learned not to doubt gut instincts, Red Robin. They’re there for a reason. Especially yours.” Unable to spot anything but white, she looked back at him. Like her, his cowl was down, his nose red, skin very white. He looked frightened and instantly Stephanie became alarmed. “What is it? Did you see something?”_
> 
> _She whirled back around, hair falling around her shoulders and back. It really was too long at this point, but Tim reached up and tangled his fingers into it. Something to hold onto. He tried not to tug on her too hard._
> 
> _“It just think someone’s watching us... me.”_


	2. A Heart Freezes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The storm knocks out most of Gotham, and the family tries to help as best they can.

_My words are like a phantom ringing in your ears_  
_You can touch my body, I’m not really here_  
_You look behind the curtain, applause has disappeared_  
_When it’s just you and I, can’t play pretend to ease your fear_

  
_I’m fading, slowly turn to grey_  
_You’re waiting for what can’t be saved_  
_It’s got you on your knees_  
_Beg me please, safely on the shore_  
_Watch me dive in deep, climb too steep_  
_Luck won’t save us anymore_

EBEN & Biometrix & RIELL - Beg Me

* * *

“Our tires have gone. Cracked and popped.” Red Robin reported, switching the interior car lights on, as Stephanie pulled out a small laptop tablet, switching to checking satellite views of the city. Tim peered at his dashboard, noting, “GPS says we’re down by Stagg Enterprises and the Trigate bridge but honestly… it’s reached whiteout. We can get out and –”

“No.” Batman interrupted. “Stay put. If your tires have frozen up it’s too cold for our suits for any trek across the city. I’m not far in my car. Signal, Robin, what did you find?”

“Mr. Freeze is a dead end.” Duke said over the commlink. “He made the valid point of this not doing much for his research. He was worried about the power outage.”

Red Robin and Batgirl, sat in Tim’s redbird car, watched the snow fly around them, heating blasting out hot air to keep the car and them from freezing. Tim peered out the windscreen, whiteout leaving them blind to the world. They _could_ leave, but it was approaching minus thirty. Their regular suits were good… but not _that_ good. For the moment, they were stranded, waiting for Bruce and his tank of a Batmobile to come to the rescue.

“It’s bizarre.” Batgirl said, scrolling through data. “Weather doesn’t work like this. The storm is just over Gotham. That’s not…that’s not physically possible. Blizzards are usually hundreds of miles wide. Not thirty and constricted to a bay. It came out of nowhere. There’s no way the air could grow cold that fast to freeze all that water naturally. And the wind is at eighty miles per hour. Normally it’s around forty.”

“The Flash has a weather themed villain.” Robin supplied.

“I checked.” Cassandra’s quiet voice, barely audible over the storm she was standing in, came over the speakers. The screaming wind cut off when she got inside, the door of wherever she was slamming shut. “He’s in Iron Heights. It’s not him.”

Stephanie continued to look through local news, in and outside of the city, desperate for someone over social media to have spotted something manmade about the phenomena. Tim jolted next to her violently, hands flailing over the steering wheel.

“Someone walk over your grave?”

“What?”

Stephanie put down the tablet and leaned over, staring at the white surrounding them. “Or did you see something?”

“You’d think I was crazy.”

“I’ve learned not to doubt gut instincts, Red Robin. They’re there for a reason. Especially yours.” Unable to spot anything but white, she looked back at him. Like her, his cowl was down, his nose red, skin very white. He looked frightened and instantly Stephanie became alarmed. “What is it? Did you see something?”

She whirled back around, hair falling around her shoulders and back. It really was too long at this point, but Tim reached up and tangled his fingers into it. Something to hold onto. He tried not to tug on her too hard.

“I just think someone’s watching us... me.”

“What? Who? Bad guy?”

“I think I’m seeing things.”

Stephanie hummed, slowly retreating into her seat.

“I’ll bop ‘em if they hurt you.”

Colour returned to Tim’s cheeks, and he smiled. “I know.”

The sound of roaring engines became audible over the car’s heating, and a little too close for comfort, the black Batmobile emerged, parking directly in front.

“Get in you two. I can’t drag the car with your tires gone. Lock it down, Red Robin. When the storm lessens, we’ll retrieve it.”

“Go ahead Batgirl. Locking it down will take a second.”

“’Kay.” She kicked her way out, fighting against the wind. Her cape, weighted so it wouldn’t fly up and around her face in such conditions, billowed out behind her, but her hair flew up and around her face. It made her stumble a little ungraciously as she felt her way around the car, opening the door enough to slide in the back.

“Jesus.” She breathed. Batman was looking over his shoulder, checking she was unharmed.

“I told you to cut your hair.”

“Yeah, yeah. I braided it but the wind…”

Bruce grunted. “We can’t do anything. We give it two more hours to show signs of passing. If not –”

“Call in the League?”

Batman’s face indicated he was not happy with the idea, but it was still the best solution. They were trained for street level crime, not climate change.

Tim tumbled in a moment later, shaking from the cold, slapping the ice and snow that had collected on his costume. Reaching across, Stephanie took off her gloves and placed her warm fingers on his cheeks, hissing at the cold. Tim sighed and closed his eyes, shivering.

“Where’s the others?” Stephanie asked, watching Tim’s shudders lessen as he warmed up again.

Bruce set off, heading back to Bristol.

“In the city tunnels. A lot of people are taking shelter there. They’ll be heading back now. We just have to wait it out for now.”

Stephanie did not miss the loathing in his tone at such an inaction.

“We can’t do anything for the time being.” Tim stated. “But when it passes –”

“If it passes.” Batman grumbled.

“–Then we’ll work overtime to help with recovery.”

Stephanie nodded emphatically in agreement.

“It’s not good enough.” Bruce muttered.

Stephanie went to remove her hands from Tim but to her shock he actually reached up and snatched her wrists, pulling her back. Damn, he really was cold. Usually he wasn’t that grabby.

“Sometimes ‘not good enough’ is all we can do.” Tim bit back.

Holding her breath, noting the tension in the car rising with the steady hot air being blasted, Stephanie pinched Tim’s nose, desperate to break the potential argument. Tim looked at her, a little outraged. Stephanie ignored him, speaking to Batman,

“Whoever did this – if it is a who – we’ll hold them to account.”

It really wasn’t good enough, and Bruce did not respond. The drive back was odd, Bruce relying on technology to navigate through the city. As soon as they cleared the bridge however, visibility resumed. It was a blizzard – a bad one – but nothing compared to what seemed to be only growing in intensity over the three main islands of Gotham.

When they arrived back at the cave, Stephanie asked Alfred to take a look at Tim, worried about his body temperature. She snuggled up to him, arms wrapped around his waist, cheek to cheek, as she tried to erase his shivering.

“Honey, why are you so cold? We weren’t exposed long.”

“Just feel cold. Like in my bones.”

She rubbed his back, trying to friction up some heat.

“Cuddle away then.”

“You’re like a furnace. It’s nice.” He sighed.

Alfred came over, took one look at Tim and shrugged off any major concern.

“Just a chill.” He confirmed after taking Tim’s temperature. “Take a warm – not hot – shower.”

“Sure Alfred.”

He went to walk off, hand around Stephanie’s, but she dug her feet in.

“It’s okay. I’m okay. I’m gonna wait for the others to come back safe.”

Tim blinked, then looked down at his grip. She wasn’t showing it, but with a dropping sensation in his stomach, he realised how tightly he was squeezing her. Mechanically, finger by finger, he let go.

“Yeah. Sorry. I’ll be a little bit.”

She smiled, worry leaking through, and he dashed off. She flexed her wrist, hissing a little at its stiffness. Tim was just spooked by the weather, she told herself. Nothing more.

The others returned soon enough, following the city sewer systems back to the cave entrance. Tim eventually came back too, in warmer clothes, dry hair and a calmer disposition, and everyone sat by the computer, and waited.

* * *

“How certain are you of this lead?” Tim asked three mornings later.

Bruce ran a hand across his face. It had been a long three days, Wayne Enterprises was going to be funding quite a number of building sites and repairs to basic utilities over the coming weeks, but for now, the weather had calmed enough for people to emerge from the lockdown. The streets were now filled with people enjoying the snow, to which Tim couldn’t blame them. There was something beautiful about freshly fallen snow and a horizon which blurred the line between sky and ground.

“Not very,” Bruce admitted, approaching the piano. “Hence why I’m only taking Robin with me.”

Damian’s little chest puffed out – proud to be the chosen one to accompany his father. Bruce looked at Stephanie, Tim, Duke and Cassandra as he spoke, deliberately holding their gaze to convey the importance he held their task.

“You four are remaining in Gotham. I’m trusting you to look after it until we get back. There shouldn’t be any major operations. The river is frozen, and many roads are blocked still with up to six feet of snow. But still, do what you can.”

“Be safe.” Cassandra urged.

Stephanie gave a tiny wave to Damian, who’s hand twitched to return the goodbye, but thought better of it, and he tutted and turned to follow.

Uncomfortable silence filled the house as the clock closed behind the two, leaving the four remaining members of the family stood awkwardly.

“Now what?” Steph asked, pushing back the heavy curtains to peer outside. “College is cancelled, no schools, no work… At least the snow has stopped. Should we monitor for problems or take a break… just for an afternoon.”

She looked back to smile at Duke, Cass and Tim, tilting her jaw outside. Cassandra clapped her hands in joy. “I saw on the tv people playing in the snow. I never have before.”

Duke gave an encouraging noise. “Yes. Yes, yes, _yes_. Snowball fight.”

Tim looked reluctant, until Stephanie elbowed him in the gut and agreed with Duke, saying, “Yeah. Sounds good. Need a bit of levity right now, huh?”

She raised her eyebrows, and Tim got the message.

“Oh! Yes. Sounds good!”

His tone was forcibly cheery, but he would warm up to the idea when actually outside, Stephanie thought.

Alfred, with the hearing of a bat, poked his head around a door frame. “Please wrap up warm, and shower when you are finished to bring your body temperature back up.”

“Can we have coco, Alfred?” Cassandra pled, eyes big as dinner plates.

“Yes, sounds a lovely idea. Try to get some joy from the terrible weather please, all of you.”

Cassandra burst off to get wrapped up, the other three trailing behind.

Stephanie laughed at Cassandra’s exuberance, trying to get her shoes on quicker. The Manor, built on the hill in the way it was, meant that the five feet of snowfall hadn’t reached the back door and steps. It did mean though, after some shoving by Cassandra, the door heaved open. She ran out, throwing herself down the stairs and onto a hug pile of freshly laid snow. She faceplanted with a shriek of joy, quickly creating snow angels. Stephanie trotted after her, calling,

“Cassie, have you ever made a snowman before?”

“No!”

“Me either. Help me?”

Tim watched for a little while as the girls – for a lack of a better term – frolicked in the white snow. Cassandra stood out more against the white, dressed from head to toe in black, Stephanie in that blinding white, purple and green jacket blended in a little more with the landscape. He was quite content to just sit on the salted steps and watch, but a solid smack to the back of his neck, snow and ice sneaking down his collar, made him squeal.

Duke laughed, “Bad form, dude! Gotta keep your eyes peeled!”

“Jesus!” Tim choked out, reflexively grabbing a pile of snow and flinging it back weakly. A snowball fight ensued.

Alfred watched the four from the kitchen window, more than a little delighted at the childish screams of joy that made their way across the Estate. At least some people were finding joy in such miserable weather. As an adult, snow only meant pain.

_Transport difficulties, concerns about plumbing and electricity, would the roof cope? What if there’s flooding? Need to clear the sidewalks and drives and roads. Is there enough food to keep us going long enough for the storm to pass?_

So many worries.

For children, it only meant wrapping up warmer, maybe missing a week of school, and games outside.

Never mind, let them enjoy it for a little while longer.

Alfred noted that flurries of snow had begun to fall, though immediately he could tell they snow was larger and slower falling than the other night. Still, the four had been outside for a couple of hours by this point, perhaps it was time for them to come in.

He moved away from the stove, turning off the heat on the milk, and making his way to the door to call them back in to warm up.

He managed to get the door open only to be met with a violent shriek from Tim, his body falling to the floor and curling up in a ball.

Instantly the frivolity stopped, and Stephanie burst across the snow. She wrapped around him, pushing his hand away from his eye. Cassandra and Duke hovered around, nervous and unsure.

“It wasn’t me.” Duke begged, “He was looking up, I didn’t throw anything at him.”

Stephanie cooed, trying to see the damage.

“What happened? Is it your eye? Did something get in your eye?”

“Get him inside so we can take a better look,” Alfred urged. “I worry the weather is only going to deteriorate.”

Alfred quickly put on the fire in one of the sitting areas and sat Tim down on the rug. He still had the heel of his palm pressed to his left eye socket. Cassandra and Duke continued to hover, nervous at the damage. Stephanie came through from the kitchen with a cold compact in case there was any swelling. She knelt in front of Tim.

“Can I see?”

Tim gave her a suspicious look, which she didn’t understand. Reaching him, she went to peel his hand away, and he flinched back. Her outreached hand froze in mid-air.

“Does it really hurt?” She asked. “Do we need to get to the hospital somehow?”

“No. I don’t want you touching me.”

She shook her head, reaching for him again. She tried to gently tease, “We can’t fix it if we can’t see what’s wrong. It’ll just take a second.”

Stephanie pushed back his hair from his forehead, as she always did to comfort him. She heard Cassandra gasp before she realised what happened, but Tim recoiled at the touch and – even worse – slapped her hand away from his face.

“I mean it. _Don’t_.”

It had been a while since he had directed such a sharp rebuke towards her. Her palm stung with the force he had smacked her with. Immediately, she entered a panic.

“You… Okay. I won’t. Sorry. Sorry. I’m sorry.”

His sneering look did not fade, and it made Stephanie get up off the floor. She passed the cold press to Alfred, who Tim, still looking supremely uncomfortable, allowed to examine the damage.

She left the room and the manor, sitting on the steps to try and calm down. Weird how one sharp word could make her feel like she was five years old again. The falling snow muffled the sounds of the Estate, and everything was eerily quiet, save the sound of her panicked breathing.

Immediately Cassandra came out and joined her, wrapping her up in a hug.

“I didn’t mean to hurt him.” Stephanie whined.

“I know.”

Stephanie leaned down, forehead resting on Cassandra’s bony arms. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise to me. He’ll feel bad later, and you can talk it out.”

Stephanie nodded, knowing Cassandra was right. In the meantime, she flexed her hand, the one Tim had hit so sharply.

“He’s yelled at me before…”

“But never looked at you like that?”

“No.” Stephanie’s lip quivered. “I’m overthinking it.”

“You aren’t yourself when you’re in pain.”

Stephanie nodded fervently and frantically. “Right, right.”

They sat still for a while, listening to the silence. Then the door opened once more. It was Tim. Immediately Stephanie was on her feet. His eye looked fine, not even bloodshot or swollen.

“Are you okay?” She asked. He looked at her, suspicion gone but now a little bored and pouty.

“Fine. Listen, can we go home now?”

“Home?”

“To the apartment.” Tim shuffled in place, looking disgruntled. “I’d drive myself but Alfred won’t let me. My eye is fine.”

Confused, but deciding to not make a scene until they were alone, Stephanie nodded. “I’ll have to go slow. I don’t know how much of the roads have been cleared."

“Whatever.” He murmured, looking distracted.

Cassandra gave Stephanie a look which was a little unreadable. Stephanie gave her thanks to Alfred, and waved goodbye to Duke.

The drive back was painful in every possible way. Stephanie’s little purple car was sturdy, but she still went much slower than normal. Tim curled up in his seat next to her, head pressed to his knees. She could see that with one hand he was aggressively clawing at the centre of his chest, near his heart. Neither spoke for the duration of the drive.

When they got parked up, he slowly and stiffly got up and out. Stephanie grabbed her phone and messaged Duke that they had survived the journey.

She arrived in the apartment after Tim, finding him looking around the space with his lip curled. He didn’t look impressed with the place, as if it wasn’t his own home that he had decorated and lived in.

She sat her bag down by the door, and walked over to him.

“Sweetie, are you sure you’re okay? I hurt you earlier.”

“No. You didn’t.” He said, moving through to the kitchen. Whatever he was looking for wasn’t to be found, and he migrated upstairs to their bedroom. She followed, anxious about leaving him alone.

“Can I see your eye? I’d feel better taking a look myself.”

He sighed like she had asked the world of him and plopped himself at the foot of their bed.

“Hurry up, then.”

She approached him like she would a rabid dog, turning on the overhead light so she could properly see. Gently, she rested her fingertips on his cheek and brow bone.

Like he said, there was nothing amiss.

“What happened?” She breathed. “If nothing hurt you –”

“You’re really warm.” He interrupted. His disinterested look became hungry, and Stephanie dropped her hands, only for Tim to catch her wrists. His fingers were frozen, which should not have been the case after a car ride where the heating had been keeping them toasty. Stephanie felt a lump of ice form in her gut.

“Tim, stop it. What’s going on?”

“Cold.” He murmured. He squeezed her wrists tighter, tight enough to make her twist out of his grip in fear. Immediately he stood up and wrapped his arms around her waist, nuzzling into to her. Stephanie became stiff, listening to him licking his lips and mutter, “You’re warm. Hot. Need…”

Backing off just enough to look her in the eye, his expression twitched, and naked panic appeared for just a moment. Trying to maintain a poker face, Stephanie released herself from his grip, unnerved. Removed from her warmth his apathy returned, and the tenseness in his posture fled.

Confused, Stephanie massaged her wrists, and tried to buy herself some time.

“Go take a nap and warm up. Okay? Just… Just go take a nap.”

He smiled at her, but not warmly. It was mocking. “Yes, _mother_.”

The feeling of dread only rose and spread. She felt like there was a permanent clump in her throat. Finding there was nothing she could say that wouldn’t result in an argument, she just turned and left, leaving Tim’s sardonic smirk behind.

He had never made her uncomfortable before. Never. He had been angry with her. He had argued with her. He had yelled at her, belittled her, and once or twice in moments they never spoke about, he had been physically violent with her (the unspoken excuse was, both times, he didn’t actually know it was her… as if that made it acceptable). But never had she been made to feel unsafe. Tim was predictable in his moods. Whatever was going on frightened her. She shouldn’t have come back alone with him.

Maybe she could message Cass or Duke…they could get here in around an hour and…

While her mind raced, she resolved to make some comfort food for dinner. She opened the fridge, finding casserole beef that would be out of date in two days, an onion, a carrot, and three potatoes.

“Good enough.” She muttered and set to work.

Two hours later, as the stew continued to cook slowly in the oven and she was washing the dishes, Tim came downstairs quietly. He made his way over to Stephanie, finding it a little amusing how she tensed up when he wrapped his arms around her waist.

Stephanie managed to not gasp out loud when he pulled her long hair out of the way and pressed kisses to her neck, but she couldn’t help the involuntary goosebumps and risen fine hairs. He was frigid.

“How are you feeling?” Stephanie asked.

“Had a nap.” He rested his sharp chin on her shoulder. “I made you worry, didn’t I?”

She said nothing at his patronising tone, not sure what to say. _Yes, and you still are. What the hell is wrong with you right now?_ But no, she was trying to be good and not respond and set off an argument.

“My eye’s fine.” He continued.

“That’s good.” She said, slowly leaning back so she could take off the rubber gloves. The moment she did, one of his hands snaked down to intertwine with her own. That did make her gasp, and flinch, but his grip on her waist tightened.

“What are you making?”

“Some stew to warm you up.” She replied, voice aggressively chipper.

Tim looked over to the oven, unimpressed.

“It stinks.”

Somehow that was the breaking point for Steph, who threw her arms back and moved away.

“ _What_ is your problem, huh?”

He looked back, almost gleeful. “You’re upset.”

“No shit I’m upset! Something’s wrong! You got something in your eye that made you fall to the ground in pain and now it’s nothing? You are physically cold as _ice_ and you’re just being a pain and mean and childish and –”

“Childish. Childish?” He looked to the side as if he had a bright idea and moved away, back into the living room. “I thought you wanted that.”

“God, Tim, what are you blathering on abo—”

She cut herself off as he stood next to the windowsill with the flowers. It had been a couple of weeks since they had brought them home, and they were doing well, even with the general lack of sunlight. Tim stared at them like they were weeds, with nothing notable or pleasant about them, then he smiled maniacally.

With a carelessness comparable to a toddler throwing a tantrum, Tim pulled his red roses off the windowsill, the pot crashing and soil flying everywhere. Stephanie couldn’t help it, she screamed, stuck in place by the kitchen.

“Tim, no! _No_! Why would you… No don’t! Please don’t!”

His hand was hovering over her lilac flowers. His awful smile froze, then fell away, leaving an equally awful emptiness. His hand trembled, and his fingers instead stroked the petals. Stephanie twitched, half ready to body slam him if he threw her plant on the ground.

His hand fell away, and Stephanie – shamefully – began to cry. He had left her roses alone but wrecked his own.

“Why would you do that?”

He looked at her like she was stupid for not getting the joke. “They’re so ugly. And I thought it would be funny. Your face.”

“Funny?” She sniffed, eyesight blurry and nose running. She couldn’t bear how bored he sounded, how mean he was being.

“When you get all angry and hot.”

“Tim! You don’t do that to someone you care about!”

“Care about you? Do I?” He blinked, uncomprehending. He had gotten distracted again and was looking out the window at the snow.

She shrieked, feeling like she was talking to a brick wall or an uncaring five-year-old. She rushed over to his wrecked plant, trying to pack the soil together as best she could. Tim watched her for a moment, then kicked the spilt soil and plant. Stephanie flinched away, staring at the scattered dirt. Intentionally or not, he’d hit her hands that were trying to salvage the situation. It was such an unnecessarily spiteful and painful thing to do, that finally she’d had enough. Stephanie got up, and shoved Tim.

“Stop it.”

He didn’t look satisfied with her reaction anymore, and asked, “Do you want me to leave?”

“I want you to stop being so _fucking_ cruel.”

It was like her words were literally going in one ear and out the other. It was like he wasn’t even talking to her, rather he was talking _at_ her. Or he was talking to someone (something) else. “I’ll go then. I’ll go. I’m bored.”

She watched, mystified, as he put his shoes back on. He looked at her once and tilted his head like a confused dog, then moved back towards her. Still crying, she choked out,

“What are you –”

He kissed her, once, desperately. She flinched away, feeling violated for the first time in years. It seemed he was not happy with the kiss either. He looked off to the side, sucking on his tongue, musing the flavour. He shook his head once.

“No good.”

Stephanie stared, heartbroken. Tim just shrugged, like the entire thing was nothing more than a mild conversation about the weather. Grabbing her car keys. He opened the front door, giving a half-hearted farewell. And then he was gone. No coat, no gloves, no scarf. The snow flurries had picked up once more, as had the wind. He was going to very quickly freeze out in the open dressed like that. Even if he did have the car, getting stranded was a real possibility in the storm.

Hating him, but also petrified, Stephanie resolved to drag him back inside. She’d make him sit down, shove the stew she’d made down his stupid throat, then call Batman. She didn’t care what he and Robin were doing at the South Pole, something had gone very wrong back home.

Stephanie grabbed the apartment keys and grabbed her own shoes, running after him. The lights flickered, a power surge apparently occurring due to the storm, and she tripped over their pile of shoes at the front door and she tugged it open.

“You _dick_!” She screeched to the howling wind. No sign of Tim though, or her car. She jolted, confused at how he could have pulled out of sight that quickly. Already the tire tracks were covered in a fresh layer of snow. Her confusion quickly returned to anger.

 _Fuck him,_ she thought spitefully, slamming the door shut and going back inside. Getting back down to see what of his roses had survived his abuse. She cleared space in her own box, hoping that they would take in their temporary home.

She then went to call him, for once being the first to crack after an argument of theirs, only to realise before she clicked his face that his phone was still in his jacket that was hung on the rack.

He really had left the house with nothing on him but the clothes on his back.

She didn’t know what to do. She’d been an idiot during their time at the Manor and had left behind her suit, leaving her stuck inside with nothing warm or secure enough to go hunting for her purple car. As several hours passed, the more her anger made way for pure grief.

That wasn’t Tim. Never in a million years would he be that cruel. Angry yes, spiteful sometimes, but not callous. And he did care about her. She knew that for a fact. More than she believed almost anything else. Even when their relationship was at its worst, he had said, word for word, that he still loved her.

He wouldn’t make fun of her until she cried, he wouldn’t hit and kick her, he wouldn’t wreck a present that he knew was important to her, he wouldn’t be such a self-absorbed _brat_.

The wind screamed outside, and Stephanie blinked.

Freak storm. Tim’s adverse reaction. The pain in his eye and drastic mood swing.

The whole thing stank of something unnatural.

It was next to nothing to go off, but she had to try and see where that line of thought would lead. First things first though, she needed Tim to come home.

But he didn’t.

Panicking wouldn’t do any good. Tim could look after himself. Even in a storm like last night. Her little car was given to her by Bruce. It was as sturdy as a tank. He would be fine.

But still. Stephanie panicked and did not sleep that night. Instead she sat in the living room, drinking mug of tea after mug of tea, watching her roses and the snow blowing outside through the window. Occasionally she’d burst into tears, not sure what to do or what to say. She could brave the storm, maybe? But Tim didn’t have a key. What if he came home and couldn’t get in? What if he found a phone and called her, would she go to him then? What if, what if, what if?

Stephanie wondered briefly who people coped not knowing where their loved ones were before mobiles became extensions of their arms.

Maybe he’d just left Gotham, gone out of the city and away from the storm. It was minus twenty that night, again unbearably cold. Stephanie sat still, grief stricken, and waited for Tim to come home.

He never did.

Come the morning, she started her hunt, looking at the CCTV footage of Park Row and the neighbouring streets and businesses, but found nothing. The footage blinked, showing Tim exiting the apartment, then he and the car was gone, and it was Stephanie poking her head out to yell.

It was like he had shut the front door behind him and vanished. Or it would have been, if not for the fact that that blip of a power surge had happened at an _awfully_ convenient time.

She messaged Cass and Duke, who confirmed that he did not return to the manor. A quiet enquiry to the Titans showed he had not made his way West either. The storm over Gotham that night was almost as bad as the first. He would have died if he did not find shelter.

The stink of the unnatural grew.

Her grief turned to panic, and two more awful days passed. The three of them took to frantic searching across the city, but a fresh layer snow made tracking her car difficult. Even worse, the GPS system installed by Bruce on her car (a safety precaution to now where she was at any given moment) wasn’t working. It hadn’t since Stephanie and Tim had arrived at the apartment.

Duke checked the different homes the Drake’s had owned just in case he had holed himself up there. The townhouse, the mansion in Bristol, but nothing. Cassandra and Stephanie had checked every safe house in Gotham, but no luck.

Duke wanted to inform Batman. Whatever lead Bruce was chasing, this was doubly important. One of his children had gone missing. Cassandra disputed Duke. Bruce had an entire city to worry about, adding Tim’s disappearance would not make him more urgent. If anything, it would make him sloppier. Nothing made Bruce more irrational than his family in danger. Let him tackle the issue with a clear head. The three of them in Gotham could find Tim.

But three days later, they hadn’t.

So Cassandra conceded, and the awful call to Bruce was made. Stephanie did not speak to him, but judging by Cass’ face after the conversation ended, it had not gone well. She relayed the information that his own search had been a dead end and would be home before the evening came round.

This served to make an anxious bubbling a permanent fixture in Stephanie’s gut. Surely if Bruce was coming home, the problem would be resolved?

A problem she had allowed to happen. Letting Tim just waltz out into a blizzard _great_ _job_ _Steph_.

No-one blamed Stephanie, though she certainly blamed herself. Tim’s roses were not taking to their shared space with Stephanie’s, and it felt like a miserable metaphor of how their relationship was seemingly incompatible.

_What the actual hell had happened?_

Staring at the roses, and hating herself a little, she decided to go speak to one of the few people in Gotham who _maybe_ would have a clue about what was happening to the natural world.

Poison Ivy had a connection to the Green, whatever that was. It was a shot in the dark, but maybe Pamela would have heard something through the literal grapevine about what was causing the horrendous weather. From there, maybe Stephanie could chase a lead to Tim, and bring him home.

Alive. Preferably.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Time:
> 
> _“You’re all good then?”_
> 
> _You meaning Tim, but Crystal would never say Tim’s name until held at gunpoint probably. He was just 'that boy', or 'him'. It was sort of funny, but Stephanie mused that – not only had Tim and Stephanie’s outlook’s on life undergone a flip – so had their relationships with their partner’s parent. Bruce liked Steph after a few years of tribulations (or so she thought), but the same time had not been kind to Crystal’s estimations of Tim._
> 
> _Certainly, telling Crystal that Tim had kicked Stephanie the other night and run away would not have added positive points._
> 
> _Stephanie swallowed dryly, not sure if she should lie or not for a moment. She decided to lie. Her mother had enough to worry about at the hospital. Stephanie entering despair and seeking help from a misanthropic villain would not help Crystal do her job._
> 
> _Yes, lying was the better option at the moment._


	3. A Journey Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stephanie hunts for someone who knows where the strom came from and where Tim could possibly be.

_Tears flow_   
_Sorry I'm late again_   
_Let them fall_   
_Sorry I'm late again_

_Can you just tell me once y_ _ou'll never leave me?_  
 _Afraid of losing you_  
 _Will you just lay with me?_  
 _There will be no fears_ _if_ _you only stay with me_

_Bare your soul to me_   
_Here I stand for you_   
_Stop crying your heart_   
_Days will come for you, for us_

_In silence, no one answers_   
_But I still hear your voice_

In Silence by Janett Suhh

* * *

On her way down to the botanical gardens, Stephanie’s mother rang.

Fumbling trying to hold onto her box of roses, Stephanie answered the phone. Her feet crunched loudly as she crossed the snow-covered grass. She flapped her fingers free from the mitten cover so the fingerless gloves could allow her touchscreen to work. She had worn Tim’s gloves since he had vanished, feeling like punishing herself for how she had failed him.

“Hi mom!”

Ooft, her fake cheeriness hurt even her own ears.

“Steph, are you okay? I hadn’t heard from you all week!”

Stephanie nearly dropped the plants in her fright. “Oh God. Mom, I’m so sorry. I’m safe. Promise. Are you okay?”

“Living out the hospital currently, thank you for asking.”

Shame flooded through Stephanie. “I’m sorry mom.”

Crystal sighed, deflating. “I guess I didn’t call either. It’s just been non-stop here. So many people needing help from the streets.”

“I can imagine. We couldn’t do anything the other night. It was too cold even for us!”

“You’re all good then?”

 _You_ meaning Tim, but Crystal would never say Tim’s name until held at gunpoint probably. He was just _that boy_ , or _him_. It was sort of funny that – not only had Tim and Stephanie’s outlook’s on life undergone a flip – so had their relationships with their partner’s parent. Bruce liked Steph after a few years of tribulations (or so she thought), but the same time had not been kind to Crystal’s estimations of Tim.

Certainly, telling Crystal that Tim had kicked Stephanie the other night and run away would not have added positive points.

Stephanie swallowed dryly, not sure if she should lie for a moment, but ultimately sided on the side of fibbing. Her mother had enough to worry about at the hospital. Stephanie entering despair and seeking help from a misanthropic villain would not help Crystal do her job.

Yes, lying was the better option at the moment.

“We’re both good. We’ve got a lot of time to kill, we’re out at the botanical gardens today.”

Crystal sucked in air between her teeth. “Hmm. Okay, but Stephanie, try to remember to give me a call once a week. Just to stop my hair from completely falling out from stress.”

“Yes mommy.”

“Be good.”

And then the call ended.

Stephanie loomed outside of the greenhouse. It was covered in a thick layer of snow, thick enough to discourage entry. But there was a huge amount of warmth showing up inside, almost like an igloo, which was how she guessed this was where Ivy was. Stephanie looked for a way in, then sighed. Knocking on the door would probably be the best bet.

Ivy was at best indifferent to humans and at worst homicidal. She tended to lie low however when natural events knocked everyone back. Nothing levels the playing field of humanity like nature. Still, Stephanie was taking a gamble. She knew this. She was banking on Ivy having information Steph only had circumstantial reasons to think she held.

But Stephanie was desperate. And when she was desperate, her brain tended to throw things like caution and logic to the wind. Act on your gut, it’ll get you there in the end.

Except that one time when it really didn’t.

As far as Stephanie could tell, she had few other options, and she wanted to give Bruce _some_ kind of information outside of a missing boy and car. If it meant risking her life and giving up her flowers, so be it.

Stephanie knocked, then opened the glass door, and slid inside.

It was swelteringly warm in the greenhouse, filled to the brim with plants and flowers which did not belong in the United States, let alone New Jersey. Stephanie stumbled into the fishpond, disturbing small lily pads.

“Excuse me? Poison Ivy?” She gulped, fear apparent on her features, as she tried to locate the green lady amongst the foliage. “Doctor Isley?”

“The only people who still call me doctor are those mocking me.”

Pamela’s voice came from behind, making Stephanie jump in the frigid water.

“I’m not mocking. I promise. I… I just…”

Ivy looked down at the roses in Stephanie’s arms and frowned. Steph held them out for her to take. “I wanted to give you these. My boyfriend and I were trying to grow them, but he went missing during the storm. I’m trying to look for him, but I need someone to look after these until I get back.”

Ivy raised her eyebrows, unimpressed. “And I was your first choice to nanny? Hilarious. Get out. One warning.”

“No please. I’m not mocking I swear.” Stephanie brazenly trudged forward deeper into the water. Ivy looked bemused, but Stephanie knew her interest in this strange young woman wouldn’t last too long. “I want you to look after them, but I also wondered if you knew anything about this storm. I would give you these to look after in exchange for information and to let me look for my boyfriend.”

Pamela looked at the flowers, then at Stephanie.

“Your lover isn’t the only one missing in a snowstorm.”

“I don’t think this is just a snowstorm. Batman and Robin have gone chasing a lead, but I think they’re looking in the wrong place. I don’t think it’s an easy fix.”

“No. It’s not.” And finally she took the flowers from Stephanie, gently stroking the petals. “What happened to the red? They haven’t settled.”

Stephanie gulped and told a half lie. “An accident. They fell. They had their own box, but it broke and I tried to… I tried.”

Ivy snorted. “Not good enough. I’ll take them off you. You can leave now.”

Stephanie slowly got out of the water. “But you said this isn’t just any old snowstorm. Do you know who caused it? Or what?”

Pamela turned around, clambering onto a vine which lifted her high above Stephanie.

“Nothing natural,” She said dryly, chuckling to herself. “Why do you care so much?”

“If I can know what caused it, I can fix it.”

Pamela rolled her eyes. “And bring your beau home.”

“Yes.” Stephanie uttered, glaring at Ivy.

“Listen little girl. All I know is, the cause is not of this earth. Not to be found in a machine. Not to be found in men. Something else.”

Stephanie followed Pamela waltzing around two levels up, craning her neck as she moved around on the floor.

“Like magic? Because I know someone who knows something about magic. This can’t be good for your plants, right? Don’t you want the cold to leave?”

Pamela flicked her wrists and the doors flew open, tree branches holding them to allow the frigid air in.

“I want _you_ to leave Miss Brown. Good luck getting the storm to end, and good luck finding that sweet boy of yours. Maybe when Mr Drake-Wayne returns, I will trust you with these roses again.”

Stephanie tried not to appear shocked that Ivy knew her and Tim from sight and inference alone, but she was nakedly frantic.

“But I—”

“It’s magic. Magic not from this world. That’s all I can tell. It will pass. Let it do so on its own you stubborn girl.”

“No. I need to know Tim is safe.”

Ivy dropped down once more and got uncomfortably close. She raised a green hand and cradled Stephanie’s cheek. Stephanie, for her part, stared right back, unafraid.

“I don’t enjoy humans and their little love stories. Who cares if this boy comes back to you? There’s always another.”

“…Not abandoning him. Not giving up. It’s a thing for me.”

“Hmm.” And in an unintentionally mocking manner, she curled her fingers into Stephanie’s hair, loose strands reminding Ivy of vines and Steph of how much more comfortable the motion was when it was Tim holding onto her. “It’s all a bit pathetic honestly.”

Stephanie swallowed bile, resisting the urge to spit on Poison Ivy to get her to back off.

“You know more than you’re telling me.” Stephanie pushed.

It seemed Ivy had had enough of Steph and took a step back.

“ _Leave._ ”

Stephanie noticed too late that a vine had curled its way around her ankle. Looking down, her stomach dropped, but before she could say anything, the vine tightened, flinging her back and out with a squeal. She landed on a large mound of snow, unharmed, but stuck with her legs flailing around. She heard the distinct solid thud of the greenhouse doors slamming shut.

“Oh, come on!” Stephanie wiggled, trying to loosen up the snow around her torso.

What a waste of time. Of course, this storm wasn’t natural. They’d known that from the start. And now she was stuck in snow, and she had given up her roses. Her beautiful roses that she had invested far too much emotional value in. Why couldn’t she do one thing right? Every solution she tried made things worse. Like a curse. Hold onto hope, because she certainly had nothing else going for her.

Swinging her ankles, she screamed, which soon morphed into a cry. Snow crumpled and went in her mouth, making her wail.

Bad day, bad week, _bad life_ …

Someone seemed to take pity on her, and grabbed her black legging covered ankles, dragging her out from her snowy prison. Snow went up her jacket and top, making her squeal in discomfort.

To her surprise, the person who tugged her out had bright blue skin.

“Klarion!” She exclaimed.

“Oh good! It is you. I followed the smell of Christmas and desperation.”

Stephanie sat up, shaking her coat free of snow, despair momentarily forgotten.

She had helped Klarion the witch boy once or twice, never of her own free will, but still. He was harmless enough, to her at least. He smiled widely at her, but in a way which was not reassuring. Her own smile turned brittle, then cracked and fell into misery. She was still reeling from the useless encounter with Ivy. It had maybe narrowed down where to hunt akin to reducing the search from a needle in a haystack to a grain of sand in a rice bag.

Disoriented and directionless were two words that came to mind. She tried very hard to not let her frustration seep into her acknowledgement of Klarion (who looked entirely too happy to see her), but still, her tone had some bite to it.

“What is it? Does Teekl need a new girlfriend?”

“Oh no,” He said, and sure enough, his ginger cat familiar hopped up around his shoulders, acting like an oversized scarf. “I have come to help you this time. I understand you are a friend of a friend of mine. I have many of these here nowadays.”

The last thing Stephanie wanted was a distraction, however well meaning, from trying to melt the snow and find Tim. She held up an apologetic hand.

“I’m sorry Klarion, but you’ve caught me at a really bad time and –”

Klarion, in his silly little pilgrim outfit and pointy black hair, bit his index finger. “Oh, I know! I know how you are feeling. You saw me when Teekl ran away… oh I was crestfallen. And before you so did Timothy!”

Stephanie, still sat on the snow, gaped. “You know Tim?”

Klarion seemed shocked she did not know. “You mean he never mentioned me? Why, we saved the world together, and Teekl, who is _my_ world, a year or two ago. At least I think it was… time is funny here.”

Hope sprung anew in Stephanie’s chest and she rose, holding onto Klarion’s forearms.

“Then you know he’s missing?”

“Exactly! I am here to help you bring him back home and… _brr_ … end this winter.”

“Oh! Klarion! You’re a godsend!” She hugged him tight. “What do we need to do?”

“Come, come! We must go to the river. Perhaps call your family. This trip may take a while.”

* * *

“Oh my God you’re blue.” Cassandra exclaimed as Stephanie and Klarion arrived. Duke looked equally dumbfounded. The wind was icy, whipping around the pebbly ground underneath Kane bridge. It pierced Stephanie to her core, but Klarion seemed – as always – unaffected by his surroundings. Sighing, Stephanie waved vaguely between a politely smiling Klarion and the two batfamily members.

“Cassandra, Duke, this is Klarion. Klarion, this is Cassandra and Duke. They’re Tim’s siblings and friends of mine. Klarion is a witch who’s a… friend… of mine and Tim’s.”

“Hi…” Duke waved. Klarion bowed, and Cassandra made a _woompf_ noise. She did not have a good history with magicians and took a cautious step back and behind Duke. Teekl appeared on top of Stephanie’s car, then leapt into Duke’s arms. He caught the cat, exclaiming, whilst Cassandra flinched away, not enjoying the vibes the witch and his familiar were giving off. It was off kilter and feral. Unmanageable and unpredictable.

“Right.” Klarion said, peering across the river with a dramatic step forward, looking like a Smurf pilgrim pioneer. “Are you ready to go?”

“You haven’t told me anything. Where are we going?”

“Not we. Just you.”

“Alone?”

Cassandra pushed Duke forward, calling over the wind, “What’s going on?”

Klarion ignored her, speaking only to Stephanie. “Hmm? Oh, you don’t know about the storm and its creator?”

“Only that it’s not of this Earth.”

“Indeed!” Klarion sounded entirely too cheerful. “You have been to my realm Stephanie, but there are many others to explore. The lady who caused this storm usually stays within her own, but sometimes she gets bored, and likes to go exploring.”

Stephanie slowly put the pieces together. “So… a magic… lady did this?”

“Magick. But yes. She likes to pick up people sometimes. I try to keep quiet track of my friends, and I noticed Tim had disappeared a few days ago. That coupled with this nasty weather of hers, well, one does not have to be a detective to put the pieces together!” Klarion nudged Stephanie in the gut, trying to be playful, but she only looked sick at his words.

“How do I bring him home? Will she hurt him?”

“Yes. She doesn’t mean to of course, but she likes humans so much. They freeze thanks to her though. She is sad for a little while, then decides to try again. Something we do not want for Tim.”

“No.” Stephanie breathed.

Klarion’s look became sympathetic. “He was very cruel before he left wasn’t he?”

Stephanie said nothing, and Klarion tutted. “It’s her way. She is not fond of a human’s warmth, not realising it is what makes them such.”

Cassandra meanwhile stomped her foot. “Who is ‘she’?”

“A Snow Queen!” Klarion gestured around him. “In case that was not obvious from the weather. Fey. Magick.”

“Fairy-tale.” Duke finished, blinking in realisation. “It’s just like a fairy-tale.”

“Is it?” Klarion shrugged. “I don’t know what that is. Regardless, Stephanie, you should be the one to melt his heart and bring him home. Since you’re the one who lost him.”

She tried not to let his matter of fact manner of speaking sting. “Why just me? Why can’t I go get my Batgirl suit? Why can’t you come with me? Or Cass and Duke?”

“Wait, he knows your secret ID?” Duke muttered, three steps behind Steph and Klarion’s conversation.

“Oh dear, Stephanie. You are going to be sick of this reason soon I am sure.”

She laughed brokenly. “It’s magic reasons huh?”

“Magick. And yes. Remember, the rules are very different in different realms. And names matter. Timothy Jackson Drake has been taken from Stephanie Brown. Stephanie Brown must be the one to bring Timothy Jackson Drake back. Anyone else entering will be kicked out. Their purpose does not fit with the rules. One human over there is bad enough… two! Oh dear. Three? Four? It will end terribly!” After his worrisome but somehow cheery doom of a lecture he held out his hand for Steph to take. “Here, I will share with you what I use to keep an eye on you and Tim. It will feel like an instinct to a human, pulling you in the right direction.”

Stephanie took off her (Tim’s) gloves, then held Klarion’s right hand. It was painfully warm. Soon enough her heart jerked, and she stumbled forward, almost careening onto the frozen river. Cassandra caught her and pulled her back.

“Oh!” Stephanie huffed, her heart legitimately aching from the separation.

“You will get used to it. Follow that pull, and you will find Tim. Remember, magick is not just something you do; it is something to hear and feel. Remember that and you will find our friend. I know you will succeed and find him before his heart freezes for good.”

Klarion smiled in that weird manner of his. Supposedly reassuring and bright but to the three humans standing by the river, it was unnerving and dissonant with his message.

Duke shook his head. “All well and good for Tim, but what about the storm? It’s been a week of this, how much longer? Is Stephanie going to fight a witch with her bare fists too?”

“Oh my God.” Stephanie groaned, crumpling in on herself. Cassandra remained curled around her, protecting her from the wind.

Klarion looked up, shielding his eyes against the glare of the white clouds reflecting off the white ground. Stephanie herself felt like she had been squinting for her entire life, like her eyes would never be fully open again.

“The storm will dissipate soon enough. She got what she came for, and this leakage will fade the further into her realm she returns. This is a problem which will fix itself. Tim however, will need a bit of help.”

“But why Tim?” Stephanie asked, desperation for him blending with relief for Gotham. “Of all the people on this planet, why target him?”

“That I do not know.” Klarion clapped his hands. “Come now, the more time we waste the less time you have to catch up.”

“But Bruce and Damian aren’t here.” Cassandra urged. “We should wait. There may be another way… so that Stephanie doesn’t have to go alone?”

At that moment the wind picked up, screaming it was so fierce, pushing the group away from the frozen water’s edge. She didn’t understand why, but it made Stephanie’s hackles rise. It felt like a challenge, or a warning. _Don’t follow_.

She was a squishy human. Klarion was seemingly willing to send her alone into a realm where that was not the norm. Whatever she would be hunting, it was strong enough to bring a city to a standstill by just _leaking_ across the border. She didn’t know where she was going, or for how long. She didn’t know if she would make it to Tim, or what to do when she found him. How would she bring him home? What if she got there (wherever _there_ was) and it was too late? What if she failed?

But what was the alternative? If she didn’t go, she failed Tim. If she went, there was still a chance she would fail Tim.

Just a chance.

The wind died down, and Stephanie got up, displacing Cassandra. Everyone watched as she went back to her little purple car and pulled out her satchel.

“I’ll go.”

“Stephanie.” Cassandra’s voice was unabashedly worried, and Duke did not look any happier with her decision. Stephanie ignored them.

She tossed nearly everything out of her bag – her purse, her phone, her keys, her umbrella – leaving behind a bottle of water, Bruce’s scarf that she had held onto (just in case she found Tim…just in case he was cold) and a bag of dried apple slices.

It was anything but a suitable bag of provisions for a journey which had no destination or time stamp, but Stephanie’s stubbornness had clicked on, and she had made up her mind.

“You can tell Bruce I have gone to bring Tim home. I may be a while. But he has to trust me to do it. I can do it. I will do it. You believe in me Klarion?”

“Oh yes. Absolutely.”

“That’s good enough for me.” She looked to Duke and Cass, who had both paled. “You can cope a while without me, yeah?”

Klarion had moved down to the river, and held out his hand once more.

“Don’t joke! Stephanie this is insane!” Duke exclaimed. Stephanie leapt down to join Klarion on the ice. Duke and Cassandra went to follow, but with a wave of Klarion’s hand, they were shoved back several feet. The two rushed back to the edge but were somehow unable to make the final step onto the frozen river.

“You should trust your friends!” Klarion called out.

Stephanie looked up at the two on the riverbank and smiled reassuringly. “Cover for me with Bruce, yeah? I’m fixing a mistake. For honest for real.” Stephanie took Klarion’s hand. “How do I get into that world?”

“I cannot go with you, but I have opened the way. Cross the Gotham river, and do not drown.”

Stephanie looked at their feet on the ice. “It’s frozen right now. Really frozen.”

“Not for much longer. The storm is moving north very fast. Spring is coming.”

Stephanie pulled out Bruce’s scarf and wrapped it around her neck. Then she adjusted Tim’s gloves, recovering her fingertips with the mittens. She breathed into the wool, feeling it warm her neck and cheeks. She muttered to herself a small pep talk.

“Okay. Cross the river. Follow my heart. Melt _Tim’s_ heart and bring him home from a human obsessed ice witch. Easy-peasy. It’s like a fairy-tale. Just like a fairy-tale.”

“I wish I knew what that was.” Klarion gently shoved her away from him. “Remember Stephanie. Different realm, different rules. It will turn your human head inside out if you are not alert. It has happened to Tim. Do not make the same mistake.”

The river was covered in several inches of snow, but even so, Stephanie felt unstable, like she was standing directly on black ice. Slowly she turned, took three steps, then whipped her head back around.

“Wait my mom!”

But Cassandra, Duke and Klarion were gone. Instead it was an endless frozen lake, with the only land viewable across the bay as she slowly returned to facing forward. The sky was piercing pale blue, and already she could feel the temperature rising.

“Oh. Oh my God. Steph, what have you gone and signed up for now?”

She then took a breath, and began to cross the frozen river, heading straight for land.

Back on regular Earth, Duke dropped Teekl when Stephanie vanished. Klarion waved goodbye to the open air, then turned around to see Cassandra and Duke glaring at him.

“She will be fine.” He said, for once reading the atmosphere.

“You’ve sent her to die! Both her and Tim!” Cassandra yelled. Klarion looked mortified.

“I absolutely have not! What a lack of faith you have in your friend.”

“It’s not a lack of faith knowing someone going on a magical journey with no destination with nothing but the clothes on their back is suicidal.” Duke bit out. “I hope Batman wrings your neck.”

“Is that something he does?”

“Sometimes.”

“Oh dear.” And then Klarion stepped back off the river. “Nevermind. I’ll head off now, nothing more to be done here. Stephanie will succeed. It may take a month or two, but be patient.”

“Two _months_?”

Everyone turned to see a very angry Batman looming from above under the bridge, Robin perched a couple of beams down. Both looked like they were genuinely considering strangling Klarion. Teekl hissed at the perceived threat. Klarion simply shrugged with his entire body.

“Or a year. Just be patient! Trust in her!” With a little uncomfortable laugh, Klarion portaled himself away, his voice echoing through the open air.

Cassandra and Duke gulped as Bruce landed in front of them.

“Care to explain how Tim and Stephanie went missing?”

“It…It was…” It was Duke’s turn to take a step behind Cassandra, who grew very puffy.

“It was magic! Or something stupid like it. Can’t you call for help?”

Damian looked out at the river. Everyone could hear new cracking noises, and the ice began to crumple under the weight of the thick snow it held up. It was still bitterly cold, but Klarion was right. The worst of the storm had passed. Gotham would recover.

Tim and Stephanie were another matter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Time:  
>  _Once upon a time, there was a young woman crossing a frozen river._


	4. Spring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stephanie's journey hits its first road bump.

_And even though the road is so long_   
_I know you'll take me back to where it started_   
_It seems as though I only go wrong_   
_But you always see the truth_

_Yours is the hand that I hold_   
_You're all I need_

_Oh, walk with me_   
_I'm a million miles away from who I wanna be_   
_Don't give up on me_   
_I know I've made mistakes, just promise that you'll stay_

_Walk with me_   
_And tell me that I'm never alone, never alone_   
_Tell me_   
_'Cause I'm tired of walking alone, ohh_

Walk With Me by Måns Zelmerlöw & Dami Im

* * *

Once upon a time, there was a young woman crossing a frozen river.

She was dressed very oddly for the world, with bright white shoes and dark bottoms, a grey scarf and red and black gloves, and with a coat which shone as bright as the snow-covered river. She had long curled hair the colour of wheat, and her eyes were the same shade as turquoise gems.

Her name was Stephanie, and she was looking for her sweetheart, Tim.

She only knew in what direction to go, but not where she was heading. She did not know for how long she would need to walk. She only knew that Tim had been taken, and it was her job to bring him home.

He had been taken by a witch who travelled with an ice storm.

But the sky was blue, with not a cloud in sight for miles. And it was quite warm. Warm enough for her gloves and scarf to be unnecessary. She removed the scarf, but kept on the gloves. They had been a gift she had made for Tim. She wore them to keep him in her mind, as she had been warned that the journey might lead to her becoming lost.

All she had to do was follow her heart, but hearts could be easily distracted.

Her progress was slow, frustratingly so, but the snow and ice meant she could not rush crossing to land.

She had realised part of the way across she had not said all of her goodbye’s before she had set off, but this was typical of her manner. She was not a stupid girl, nor was she a cruel one, but her urge to do good and help sometimes had unintended consequences. This was especially true of her mother, who endured Stephanie’s brazen antics over the years with occasional pride, but mostly fear. Stephanie running off to chase down an ice witch who had stolen her sweetheart, a boy Stephanie’s mother was unsure of her feeling’s towards (even if Stephanie was certain of her own), would have been just another tipping in the scale of a strained relationship.

One they had both done so much to rebuild and repair after what felt like half a lifetime of neglect.

The sooner Stephanie found Tim, the sooner her mother could stop worrying. She simply had to get across this river quickly.

The air grew warmer the closer she moved to land, until distantly, she heard the cracks of melting ice.

Stephanie froze, unsure of how to proceed. Slowly she got down, closer to the ice, intending to spread her weight more. However, the air had grown warm unnaturally fast, and the ground gave way beneath her.

The icy water was a gut punch, and her muscles seized up, not allowing her to even yell out a cry of shock. The current was much stronger than anything found in her hometown river in Gotham, and she got swept away upstream, underneath a cracking and splintering layer of ice.

The further north she went, the warmer it grew, and eventually the current allowed her to break the surface, and she gasped for precious oxygen, before being pulled back down.

It was hard to think straight and process what was happening. Instead she acted on instinct, trying to fight her way to the shore, but it was impossible. She took every gulp of oxygen she could, and quickly grew tired in the cold and fast-moving waters. She absently noted that she had lost her bag and her scarf in the river.

 _No,_ she thought. _I can’t fail this soon. I can’t fail at all._

But she was not particularly strong. She was not particularly special. She didn’t have any means of escaping the pull of the river. All she could do was try to keep her head above water.

* * *

There once was an old lady who lived by the river in a forest. Where she lived it was eternally spring, and the flowers were always in bloom. When it rained, the sun still shone, creating small rainbows and splashes of colour through the evergreen leaves of the trees. She had a garden she cared very much for, but she was lonely. She had lived by herself for a very long time.

As chance would have it, one day she was at the river washing her bedsheets, when she saw a very odd shape floating down the river bend. The current threw what the old woman realised was a girl onto the riverbank. She lay still like a dead body after a brief struggle to tug herself further on land, but then with a huff she collapsed, and did not move again.

The old woman dropped her washing and rushed over. She flipped the young girl over on to her back, and gasped,

“A human!”

Humans didn’t often come here. Then again, young girls did not wash up on shore in front of the old woman’s house either.

The old woman was a witch. Not a powerful one, but she kept her garden in neat condition with her magic. It was a hobby, not a career, but she knew enough to help this poor girl.

She pressed very gently on the unconscious girl’s chest, and she awoke, spluttering water.

She looked at the old woman, frightened, and the old woman tried to smile reassuringly.

“You poor little thing! What a fright you have gone through. Can you stand?”

Gulping loudly, the young girl shook her head, looking at her with suspicion.

“Tired…” She gasped, voice rough from nearly drowning. “Need to rest, just for a-a moment.”

Then her eyes shut, and the old woman, much stronger than she appeared, lifted her sodden body off the ground.

“Come on, dear thing, let’s get you dried and warmed up.”

The girl briefly tried to struggle, but she was very tired, and hung limp until the old woman got her inside her little thatch cottage.

“What’s your name?” The old woman asked as she sat the girl down against her roaring kitchen fire.

The girl collapsed backwards, laying on the kitchen tiles, drained and delusional.

“Stephanie.”

“Hello, Stephanie.”

“I’m trying to find someone.” She said, eyes shut. “Then I get our roses back.”

“Who are you looking for?”

“My…” She swallowed, looking at the old woman with fear. Stephanie managed to sit upright, groaning as she did, then looked towards the door. The cottage was lit up with an orange glow from the setting sun. It was one large room, with a narrow set of stairs in one corner. Everywhere she looked, surfaces were covered in flowers, in crockery and cutlery, in dishes and pans and knitting needles and looms. She grew warm next to the fire, and the pain in her throat lessened. “I’m sorry. Has a snowstorm passed through here? I got swept far off course. I’m following the storm.”

The woman shook her head. “No. Catch your breath and dry off. It may pass through soon.”

It wouldn’t. The old lady’s magic made the weather here eternal.

Stephanie shook her head. “No, I’m sorry, I have to keep moving. I just need my…”

Whatever she needed seemed to make her panic, and she burst out of the house, the old woman trailing behind her. Stephanie ran to the bank of the river and let out a cry.

“No! My bag!” She collapsed back into the river, “No! I lost his scarf! No! I made him that. Oh c’mon! This isn’t fair!”

She slapped the water in her frustration whilst the old lady watched. When Stephanie collapsed forward into the stream, exhaustion catching up with her, the woman intervened. She tugged Stephanie back upright, refusing to let her drown.

“Come inside. Dry off. I have some clean clothes. You’re probably feverish.”

Her tone brokered no argument. Stephanie, looking to the clear blue sky, without a hint of white cloud or cool winds, allowed herself to be picked up and carried back inside, hoping to catch her bearings.

The old lady was shorter and plumper than Stephanie, with short cropped hair and glasses which were large and circular. And yet, the clothes she gave Stephanie – a yellow summer dress – fit her perfectly. Stephanie had held onto her gloves. Even though they were still damp, she refused to take them off. She was frightened they would become misshapen if she let them dry over the warm fire like her shirt and shoes.

“I won’t be able to travel in this.” She said, lingering by the back door.

“No, no. Just until your clothes are all dried off.” The old lady patted a stool and pulled out an ivory comb. “Sit. I’ll get your hair untangled.”

Stephanie did not sit. She eyed the door nervously, looking like a cat about to bolt.

“Stephanie? I just want to help.”

“Why?” Stephanie whispered, looking back to the woman. The lady just smiled at her.

“Because I get the feeling you don’t receive a lot of help when you need it. Just sit. Take a breath. You can get going again once you’re back up to full strength.”

Stephanie’s lungs still burned from the water she had inhaled, and her limbs were heavy from the strain of trying to hold herself afloat. Her heart ached. It throbbed in what felt like her throat, making her already sore breathing even more difficult. She looked down at the yellow dress she was wearing, then back to the stool, then back to the old woman inviting her to take a moment.

“Let me take care of you.” Pushed the old woman.

Stephanie heavily sat down on the stool, and let her face fall forward into her waiting palms. She sobbed quietly to herself as the day’s events caught up with her. The old woman cooed and rubbed her shoulder reassuringly.

“You must have been through a lot.”

Stephanie did not reply.

They sat in silence for a while, and the old woman began to comb through Stephanie’s drying hair.

“How did a human end up here? Not many can cross realms.”

Stephanie eventually replied, though it took a long while before she found the words. Whispering, she said,

“I was sent here by a friend who makes a habit of jumping borders.”

“You’re searching for someone?”

Face still hidden; Stephanie nodded.

“Family? Friend?” The old woman watched as Stephanie shook her head. “Oh. Something more?”

“A boy…”

She tutted, “Oh no. Far too young for any of that. All this fuss over a boy?”

Stephanie laughed bitterly into her hands. “You sound like my mother.”

The comb in her hair paused, then Stephanie lowered her hands from her face, cautious. She saw the old woman put a plate of berries in front of her at the table with a slightly angry thud. The lady then resumed combing Stephanie’s hair.

“Here. Eat something.” And then the old woman sighed happily. “What lovely hair you have. So long and golden.”

“…Thank you.”

Tim liked her hair. He never told her as much, but Stephanie could tell from how often he’d taken to pressing his face into it, or running his fingers through it, or braiding it, or massaging her scalp or whatever else he felt like doing.

The movement of the old lady’s comb going through her drying hair was soothing. Stephanie sat up straighter and closed her eyes.

“I don’t get many visitors out here. So I get lonely.”

As she spoke and combed Stephanie’s hair, the old lady used her magic to ensure that Stephanie forgot why she had washed up in the woman’s land. She made Stephanie forget why she had left home, who Crystal and Cassandra and Bruce and her father were, and even Tim.

“I’d sometimes wished for a daughter, so this feels fitting.” She put the comb down and squeezed Stephanie’s shoulder’s, who giggled in response. “Please eat something.”

And Stephanie did. The old woman went outside to her garden and hunted for her rose bushes. Stomping her feet, she made them wither and retreat into the ground. Stephanie had mentioned a bag, a scarf and roses. Not wanting to trigger any memories, she did her best to remove the one item Stephanie may have used as a reason to leave. She could not get Stephanie to take off the gloves (even though Stephanie no longer remembered why they mattered), so she relented in that one area. She took Stephanie’s old clothes and locked them in a trunk. Out of sight, out of mind.

And so, several days passed. When the sun shone, Stephanie helped the old woman in her garden. When it rained, Stephanie helped the old woman cook and sew. She was given an abundance of nice dresses and shoes, and, as far as Stephanie could remember, didn’t want for anything.

One day, when the sun had set, and Stephanie was reading on a rocking chair, the old lady stirred what smelled like stew. The witch began to half talk to herself.

“What a lucky mother I am… to have a daughter like you.”

Stephanie looked up from her book, and absent-mindedly turned the page. “I’m not that special.” She muttered, bitterness creeping in from a place she didn’t understand. A small quick movement caught her eye, and onto the open windowsill landed a fat, perfectly spherical, European robin.

Stephanie nearly dropped the book.

“Oh, but you are!” Retorted the woman, though Stephanie was barely listening. “Always willing to lend a helping hand. Always smiling. Such a beauty! You make the days pass by so warmly…”

As the woman spoke, Stephanie watched the bird. It tilted its head curiously at the warm scene of the kitchen, then, ever nosy and poor with boundaries, it hopped onto the kitchen table, and began to help itself to a pile of raisins.

The sound of something wet hitting her book made her look down as the robin shook its body cutely, then flew back out the window, full and content. Splotches of water had fallen on the book’s thin paper. Stephanie realised she was crying but didn’t understand why.

“…It just makes me happier to spoil you!” The old woman was continuing on in her praises, but Stephanie jerked, finally dropping the book.

“I’m going to go to the garden for a little bit. Is that okay?”

The old woman did not look back, too preoccupied with her cooking. “Of course. I’ll call when it’s ready.”

“Thanks…mom.”

Rushing outside into the fresh air, Stephanie nearly fell into the bramble bush, breathing harshly. Her head pounded, her pulse raced, and her skin sweated. Something was wrong. Something felt like it was on the very tip of her tongue, and she only had to find the trigger…

She looked around at the fruit trees and the vegetable patch. She looked down at the flower beds, then paused. Like a cat, she got down and crawled over, pilfering through them. Sweet peas and tulips, pansies and peonies, dahlias and lavender…

“There’s no roses.” She said out loud, sitting back on her legs. “What kind of garden doesn’t have _roses_?”

She was still crying, though not fully understanding why. Her tears fell on the soil, and she jumped as deep red roses emerged from the ground. They shivered, shaking off the dirt that smothered their petals and leaves. Stephanie blinked once, then gagged as her memories came back violently.

Tim.

“Tim… No, Tim… Oh God. He’s dead. Isn’t he? I’ve wasted so much time.”

She folded in half, trying to muffle a scream, realising she had utterly failed. Klarion had given her a warning, and she had _failed_. She had crumbled at the very first test because somebody, for once, had cut her a break. Or at least given her the illusion of being loved and looked after. Manipulative to use someone’s loneliness like that.

Which Stephanie was most definitely _not._ She just… wanted the world to do her a solid every now and then. Like Tim and her had discussed. It wasn’t wrong to want to be looked after every now and then, right?

Only every now and then, though. Stephanie knew she craved her independence more than a parent’s smothering.

Not that Crystal had ever done such a thing. Not that Crystal had a leg to stand on to even try anymore.

And to say nothing of her father…

Her hands, still wearing the gloves she’d made Tim so long ago, were covered in soil. Her tears continued to drip down, watering the returned roses as they preened themselves clean of dirt.

 _Different realm, different rules._ Klarion had said. _It will turn your human head inside out if you are not alert. It has happened to Tim. Do not make the same mistake._

Stephanie felt like she was choking. What had she been doing all these days? She knew this whole thing was time sensitive. What if Tim had died because she’d been stuffing her face with apple pie for three weeks?

 _He’s not dead._ A voice throbbed in her head. _We’ve been in the ground where the dead live. He is not there._

Stephanie stared, curled in half, hands over her ears, kneeling in the dirt, feeling like she had utterly lost her mind. Somehow, impossibly, she understood that it was the roses speaking to her.

Because of course they were.

“It’s a fairy tale.” She hissed. “Rules are different. C’mon Steph. Roll with the punches. Roll with it…” Inhaling deeply, she looked at the roses, then – intensely ashamed – spoke to the flowers. “Do you know where he is?”

_No. Try asking around. Each flower has a story to tell._

Stephanie huffed, trying to supress her embarrassment and not forget (again) the task at hand. She crawled through the dirt to a bunch of hyacinths.

“Can you tell me where Tim is?”

 _I have a story!_ They sang, and Stephanie winced. _It’s about a little girl and her mother._

“No that’s not –”

_Her mother had been very hurt before she had her little girl. And she was very hurt after. So hurt in fact she let her little girl be hurt in turn. The woman had a bad husband and the daughter had a bad father. Who is worse? The abuser or the abused? The one who harms or the one who did nothing to stop it?_

Stephanie suddenly felt the urge to slam her palm down on the hyacinths. “It doesn’t work like that.” She hissed. “Of course, it’s the father. Take him away and the pain stops. Take him away and the pain never began.”

The hyacinths shivered in the cool breeze but said no more. Stephanie vaguely was aware of how harsh her breathing was, but what those flowers had said had struck a nerve.

“Why would you even ask that? My mom _tried_ she…” Stephanie cut herself off with a sore gulp, realising maybe she shouldn’t be arguing with flowers.

 _We have a story!_ And Stephanie looked over her shoulder to a collection of marigolds.

“Is it about where Tim is?” She whispered wearily.

_It’s about a mother’s grief when her daughter dies before her._

Immediately Stephanie was off the ground, hands over her ears.

“I didn’t die. I’m not going to die. I’ll bury my mom, she won’t have to do it for me. Not again.”

She looked at her bare feet as she backed away from the flower bed, bumping into a hydrangea bush. Looking at it with fear, she muttered.

“You have a story about moms and daughters too?”

 _A woman is waiting for her daughter to come home_. It said simply. _You should hurry while she still is capable of forgiveness._

“But I don’t know where to –”

“Stephanie?” The old woman’s voice called. Stephanie gasped, head throbbing, and fell backwards into the bushes.

“Tim.” She gasped to herself. “I need to find Tim so I can bring him home. My mom… my real mom is waiting.”

Her heart stuttered in its beating, and Stephanie found herself staring at the gate which led out of the woman’s property. Her hands and the gloves were filthy, as were her feet. Her dress, a pretty red thing with golden embroidery, had stains where she had been kneeling in the dirt. Klarion had told her to follow her heart, and as cheesy as it was, Stephanie didn’t see any better option.

“Sweetheart? Time for dinner.” The old lady called again. Stephanie did not reply, and she listened as the woman walked around to the front garden, thinking she had sat on the bench swing that hung from the maple tree. As quietly as she could, Stephanie got up to go to the gate. Hunched over, she unclasped the lock.

“Stephanie?”

She jumped and turned, seeing the old lady lit up against the warm glow of the cottage. The woman looked at her, sadness in her eyes, and shook her head, begging Stephanie not to go.

Stephanie stared back, unapologetic. She took one last look at the woman and her home, feeling nostalgic for a life she had never and would never have. When the old woman moved towards her, Stephanie flung the gate open and ran. Ignoring the cries, Stephanie fled north, into the forest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steph's relationship is complicated with her mum eh?
> 
> Next time:
> 
> _The crow tilted its head, then hopped closer. It inspected her quite closely, then settled down next to her. Taking a chance, Stephanie raised her hand, finger curled. The crow nipped at her playfully, then allowed her to stroke its head._
> 
> _“Oh, you’re clever, huh? You know head scratches feel good?” The crow closed its eyes, content. Stephanie watched for a moment, then sighed. “Don’t suppose you’ve seen a black haired blue-eyed young man come through here recently?”_
> 
> _The crow looked up at her, almost looking pensive, then squawked,_
> 
> _“Yes! Yes, I have!”_
> 
> _Stephanie froze in her petting._
> 
> _Oh. Of course, the birds could talk. Why not. Flowers, birds…what was next? Fish? Moose? Cutlery?_


	5. Summer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stephanie received a helping hand (or wing).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for no update last week - see my Little Lovebirds compilation story if you want to know what I wrote instead (it was my birthday you see!), but here we are! Please enjoy?

_Hit me one more time_   
_One, two, three just give me more_   
_'Cause with every strike_   
_I'll be stronger than before_   
_I used to fear the night_   
_I used to close my eyes_   
_And now I need the dark so I can see the stars shine_   
_Oh, I'm falling just to rise_   
_Falling just to fly_   
_Gotta die to stay alive_   
_Oh, hurting just to burn_   
_Burning to ignite_   
_Gotta die to stay alive_

Phoenix by Molly Sanden

* * *

_Then_

There were certain assumptions, when it came to a young couple moving in together, regarding what stages the relationship had crossed. Tim and Stephanie had kissed. Yes. Tim and Stephanie lived together. Yes. Tim and Stephanie shared a bed. Yes. Tim and Stephanie had had sex?

No.

Not to say they had not tried. Boundary testing had formed a large part of the reuniting, which had included the throwing of Tim’s shirts across the room during make out sessions and yet, the moment hands began to wander, it was Stephanie who would pull back fingers to a safer space. Tim had never complained, or even given a hint of being frustrated, until one day, when they were sat on Wayne Tower watching the sun set and eating a burger, Tim piped up.

“Can I ask you something invasive?”

Stephanie made an encouraging noise, a dollop of sauce slopping out onto her grease paper as she took a big bite of her burger.

“Of course! No secrets now. I’m your open book.”

Tim methodically picked his burger apart, chewing on a pickle.

“It’s really invasive.” He warned, and Steph nodded with a smile. “But, uh, you and Dean.”

 _Oh God._ Steph’s smile froze.

“How often did you two...have...sex?”

“Oh. Okay. Yeah. A bit intrusive there. Oh boy. Yeah, so, no more than three or four times, I think. He preferred...urgh!” She shivered, then made an exaggerated jerking off motion with her hand. Tim frowned, seeming pensive, and Stephanie looked back, a little nervous. “Is this about us not sleeping together yet?”

“I don’t want to pressure you. ‘Cause you never do for me.”

“I know, sweetie.”

“I’m just trying to figure out if there’s something I could be doing better for you. If I’m…lacking.”

Steph swallowed, rocking back and forth on her bum. “Well, okay. Number one, don’t ever compare yourself to him because you are ten times the boyfriend, man, and person Dean ever was or could be. Number two, I’m just not ready, Tim. Not yet. That’s all.”

Part of her hoped he could hear the story she was trying to tell. If she wasn’t ready to be with Tim after five years of knowing him, of loving him, then maybe, just maybe, she hadn’t been ready for anything Dean had made her do after two weeks of ‘dating’.

Only part of her hoped though. Another part of her felt very strongly that it was a conversation she would never have aloud. She didn’t trust herself or Tim with it.

To her conflicted relief, Tim did not pick up on the unspoken.

“You love me.” He stated, seeking reassurance.

“I love you. You’re the only one I ever have or will if I have anything to say about it.” Stephanie watched as Tim turned bashful at her openness. “Just be patient? I can’t give you a date.”

“We don’t ever have to if you don’t want to.” He declared. “It’s not a deal breaker for me. I just thought... If I can do better, to make things better for you, please tell me.”

Stephanie giggled. “Like what? What can you do? What grand plan did you have to seduce me?”

Tim gagged on his burger, retching and coughing, face violet.

“None of your business.” He choked out, which made Stephanie bust a gut with laughter.

“I think that’s debatable boy wonder!”

Tim began to beg, “C’mon Steph give me a break! I love you, and I just want to do right by you.”

Stephanie softened, sobering up, and ran a hand through his hair. Tim closed his eyes, content like a purring cat, and listened carefully as Stephanie whispered over the sound of Gotham traffic.

“You’re the only boy who ever has.”

_Now_

Stephanie ran until her feet bled on the forest floor. She stumbled through the foliage, disturbing the nocturnal animals that were watching their food for the night. She followed the stars, for the night was clear of any cloud, continuing to go north. That was all she knew to do. Keep going north.

And yet the weather seemed to be only growing warmer. Like she was experiencing a transition at double speed from Spring to Summer. Even the leaves on the trees were looking a darker and drier green. Soon enough she was dripping sweat, and eventually she collapsed against a tree stump, groaning to herself as she checked the damage she had done to her feet. For the first time in weeks, she was thirsty. She was sure the witch was not following her, and decided to take a moment to rest.

“Should have stayed by the river.” Stephanie murmured to herself, tearing her dress so she could wipe away as best she could the dirt on her wounds. “But no. I need to go this way. I just know it.”

She wrapped scraps of her dress around her feet, binding them, stood up, took a deep breath, then continued to move, albeit at a slower pace. She walked until morning broke, and the forest awakened with life.

Songbirds began to chirp, and warm light filtered through the forest canopy. Stephanie could see no edge to the forest and began to wonder if she was lost.

Exhaustion was catching up with her, as was her hurt feet, so she slid down to the floor underneath a rowan tree. It had a multitude of red berries on it, which the songbirds were feasting. Smiling, she watched as a pair of cardinals flew over. Living up to their nature, the male began to carefully pick a berry, then feed it to his mate.

“Cute.”

She turned back around to shut her eyes for a moment, getting ready to begin moving once more, but when she opened them, a crow was sat on a nearby log, looking directly at her.

“ _Oopf_. Hello.”

The crow tilted its head, then hopped closer. It inspected her quite closely, then settled down next to her. Taking a chance, Stephanie raised her hand, finger curled. The crow nipped at her playfully, then allowed her to stroke its head.

“Oh, you’re clever, huh? You know head scratches feel good?” The crow closed its eyes, content. Stephanie watched for a moment, then sighed. “Don’t suppose you’ve seen a black haired blue-eyed young man come through here recently?”

The crow looked up at her, almost looking pensive, then squawked,

“Yes! Yes, I have!”

Stephanie froze in her petting.

Oh. Of course, the birds could talk. Why not. Flowers, birds…what was next? Fish? Moose? Cutlery? This world was bonkers and frightening and –

“Wait you saw Tim?”

“Tim? What’s Tim? Who’s Tim? Can you speak bird? Human language is hard for me.”

“Nuh-no. Sorry. I only know human.”

“Hmm. I will try.”

“Thank you.”

The bird hopped on Stephanie’s knee, and she made a show of listening to the birds squawking.

“Black hair? Blue eyes? A little thin? Young?”

“Yes!”

“He’s married to the princess!”

“Beg your pardon.”

The bird flew up onto the tree. “There was a competition. The princess would only choose a husband from someone kind _and_ smart. There was a riddle. A boy solved it, so he was chosen.”

“Kind? Smart?” Stephanie stumbled onto her feet. “Do you know where they are? Please, I need to see them.”

The bird ruffled its feathers. “I’m meeting my brother at the castle. You are not…you are not a threat?”

“No.” Stephanie replied immediately. “I think I may know this boy. I’m a – a friend of his. He went missing. I was sent to bring him home.”

“Oh. That’s odd.”

“I have to be sure it’s him. I think he’s under a spell. I’m not a threat. I just want him safe.”

The crow jumped on her head, making her squeal. The sensation of the bird’s feet in her hair was very odd.

“I believe you. Follow me. The princess is very kind. She will be able to help.”

Stephanie sighed, hoping this world was cutting her a break. She tugged herself upright, bird still stood on her head.

“See the ash tree?”

“Yes?”

The bird settled down, sitting neatly on the crown of her head. “Go there, then go left.”

Stephanie followed the bird’s instructions to the letter.

It took a good hour, but eventually the forest cleared a little, and Stephanie was asked to stop. The bird thumped down it’s tails feathers, telling her to look up.

“Oh! Like Lothlorien!”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Perhaps castle was inaccurate a description – but the bird had said human wasn’t her first language. But what there was looked like something out of a fantasy film for sure.

“Tree houses?” Stephanie asked, tone mystified.

“They are better than _that._ ”

“Uh-huh…” Gawking, she looked for a way up into the wood and glass structures. “Oh man, is the princess an elf?”

“A what?”

“Never mind.” She gulped, cracking her fingers. “Right, so how do we get up there? Well, you fly, obviously. Do I climb?”

“There’s some ropes around here somewhere…Ah!” The bird squawked, making Stephanie flinch. The bird began to flap, ruffling Stephanie’s hair, cawing out loudly. “It’s my brother!”

A second crow landed on Stephanie’s head, making her curse out loud. The pair nuzzled and made a general racket, fluffing and ruining her hair.

“Sorry, pardon, birds? Not my head?”

The brother sat on her shoulder. “A human!”

The lady crow resettled. “And she does not speak bird!”

“Tragic.”

Stephanie blew air between her teeth, anger rising. “Look, can you get me in or not?”

They could. Soon enough she was several feet up in the air, watching her step to ensure she didn’t twist her ankle on any slots between planks.

She crept along quietly, the birds hopping and fluttering along, showing her the way.

“It is early,” said the male crow. “So they won’t be…”

“Awake.” Finished the female crow. “That’s okay. The princess is very nice.”

“So, you said.” Stephanie gripped the tree trunk, huffing from the exertion. Her feet were killing her. “Do you two live here?”

“We come and go. I love the princess. She is like…like…”

“Your mother.” The male said, settling back on Stephanie’s shoulder.

“Yes!” And the bird hung upside down on a softly glowing lantern. “She took me in. My mother and father were not good. Him,” She said, jerking her wings to the bird perched on Stephanie, “is my brother. My brother is not my brother. But he is my brother.”

Stephanie paused, musing and trying to understand. “Adopted?”

“Is that the word? We have different mothers.” The crow flew up a level, and Stephanie skipped after her. “This way.”

They continued in silence for some time, the size of the palace deceptively large. They spiralled up what Stephanie could only assume was the back staircase. The sun had truly risen by then, but it still felt early, like the sun in summer. Already she was feeling very warm. No wonder this place was built up high and had no real solid walls. Stephanie wondered how many fell out of such heights, or did the creatures that inhabited the palace feel no need to worry about such a possibility?

“Why haven’t we come across anyone?”

“They are all sleeping. It is still early. There are no threats here. It is safe. It is why I asked you.”

“I see.”

“The princess protects us.”

Stephanie stopped and gasped, seeing shadows on the stairwells. The male crow noticed her sharp panic and nipped reassuringly at her earlobe.

“It is okay! We are getting closer to where the court sleeps. Their dreams have come out.”

Stephanie remained still, listening, and watching the shadows move, reluctant to turn the corner. “They do that here?”

The female crow zoomed back, once again landing on Stephanie’s head. “The more responsibility you have, the stronger your dreams. They leak out and play. Come watch. They will entertain you until the princess awakes. No nightmares here.”

Stephanie believed the birds. She knew from the stories she read as a child that crows were supposed to be tricksy. Cruel and malignant with their intelligence, and Stephanie knew she should not be so trusting with the kindness that was offered, but there was something about the two crows that reminded her of home, of people she knew.

Still clinging to the trunk of the tree, Stephanie curled around to the next set of stairs, the trees seemingly never reaching their end, and peered round the bend.

Whatever Stephanie expected escaped dreams to look like, it was not bright bursts of colours, forming shapes with bright chiming bells, only to immediately slip into another form and shape and colour. She craned her neck up to better watch the display, trying to see clearer stories in the shapes.

A pair of birds flying together, a kiss, home, and a cradle. Music, loud and cantankerous, soft and affable. A bolt of lightening that cracked the air into rainbows that split further through glass crystals that lit the way up the palace.

“Wow.” Stephanie uttered.

“They’re lovely, aren’t they?” The lady crow came close then flew back again. “I used to have horrid ones. Still do sometimes. But time is better now. Wait here, I will wake the princess.”

“Thank you…” Stephanie paused as she went to sit on a carved wooden ledge, feet dangling over the edge as she continued to rest. “Sorry, do you have a name? Or is it not safe to share?”

It was almost like the crow smiled. “Silly human. Wait here!”

Stephanie watched as the lady crow flew off. The male remained, hopping off to sit with her watch the light and shadows fly through what seemed to Stephanie akin to an antechamber.

“Your sister is very kind.” Stephanie said quietly.

“She is!” He squawked, his neck feathers ruffling with pride. “She likes to help. People were not kind to her, so she decided to be kind back.”

“Sounds like someone I know back home.”

“Who?”

“The sister of the boy I’m looking for. She was mistreated, but she found some people willing to help her.”

“She’s happier now?”

“Much.”

As she spoke to the bird, Stephanie was again reminded of how much she empathised with Cass. She couldn’t compare with the horror and volume, when she had told Cass that she couldn’t beat her at anything, Stephanie meant _anything_. Still, it explained why she trusted the bird. It was almost as if someone had taken Cass and made her an overly exuberant and curious bird.

Stephanie watched the dreams some more – staring in particular at the two songbirds twist and turning round the other, splintering off only for a moment, only to crash into each other, singing their songs. She giggled watching them.

“I’ve been told we have a human passing through?”

Stephanie gasped, turned, and scrambled off the ledge in order to perform an awkward curtsey, not sure what to do when faced with royalty.

The female crow returned to her brother, bouncing up and down cutely. “It’s her my lady! It’s her! Looking for a lost boy.”

The princess looked at Stephanie – bedraggled Stephanie with bleeding feet, torn dress, muddy knees and dirty gloved hands – with some level of suspicion, but also compassion.

The nightgown she had on was a turquoise satin, whilst her skin tinged a bit too yellow to be human. The wicked green eyes were playful, but not spiteful. She looked like a water colour come to life. Stephanie tried to relax, but clung to her elbows, holding herself in comfort.

“Please, the boy you just married,” It was ridiculous, but Stephanie had to know. “I think he might be… I think he might be mine?”

She sounded unsure even to herself, and the princess raised her eyebrows and looked Stephanie up and down.

“Interesting. A human comes tumbling into my realm, chasing a stolen boy, and claims I’m the thief?”

“No. No, I don’t think that. I have nothing to go off, just that you married a black-haired blue-eyed boy.”

“I did.”

“Then… please. Can I meet him? Just to be sure? He was taken by a spell and an ice witch and I’m sure he would be smart enough to escape on his own but I got side-tracked by an old woman pretending to be my mother in the woods so I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s managed to get himself in another mess not that being married to you would be a mess it’s just I love him and he’s human and he… he belongs with me. To me.” She wriggled her shoulders, brazen. “He’s mine. He belongs with me and his family in the human world. Please, let me just check it’s not him.”

The princess raised an eyebrow throughout Stephanie’s little speech. She smirked.

“And what if it is him?”

“You can’t have him.” She pled.

“I think he should be the one to decide.”

A dream fluttered in front of Stephanie, a horse that galloped straight into the tree trunk, seemingly shattering out of existence with the impact. The solid thunk made Stephanie jump back, determination broken. The princess’ mouth twisted into a fey smile. The sound of someone padding down the stairs, from the same direction the princess had come, made everyone turn to see.

The princess smiled, her face finally growing warm.

“My love, do you know this girl?”

“Uh, no.”

“Do you want to leave with this human?”

“Not particularly.”

“Well, there we have it.” The princess turned back to Stephanie. “My _husband_ wants to stay.”

Stephanie’s gut dropped in the most awful concoction of relief and dread.

It wasn’t Tim.

Relief.

She had to keep moving then. Had to keep searching.

Dread.

The new prince had several years on Tim, and was – like the princess – the definition of fey. Skin the colour of an acorn, hair so dark it absorbed any light that shone on it, with eyes brighter blue than anything found on a normal human.

Black hair, blue eyes, young. Well the crow hadn’t lied about that…

Stephanie’s eyes grew wet.

“I’m sorry. I’ve wasted your time.”

The princess shook her head. “No, I’m interested in the story behind a human running barefoot through my home looking for a lost boy.”

Stephanie sighed, arms flapping in distress. “An ice witch took him. A friend who can jump realm boundaries said I had to be the one to bring him back.”

“Ice witch?” The man said to his wife. “The storm passed through about three days ago, is that her?”

“Probably. I keep the weather how I please, but she’s done awful damage this year. Has she picked up another human? For goodness sake she never learns.”

She looked back to see Stephanie crying. Her royal façade cracked, and instantly she was hugging the poor girl.

“Oh. I’m sorry. I can be a little callous sometimes. I swear that we won’t harm or feed you, but we can help you on your way. Let me see to your injuries and get you some new clothes. You have a long way to go yet.”

“Let me keep my gloves.” Stephanie begged. “They belong to him.”

The man snorted softly, full of admiration. “Young love.”

“Come. Come sit so I can see.”

Stephanie looked at the crows, mindful of another delay or trap, but they nodded encouragingly. Maybe it was a mistake to trust anyone from this world, but the alternative was to solo run bare foot into a winter storm. She would try trusting again.

The man picked her up, making Stephanie squeal at the ease which everyone seemed to handle her, and took her up more stairs. Finally, they reached a hanging gallery, and the new prince sat her on the table. The palace was waking up, and an assortment of interesting looking people flittered by, curious about why the small human sat on a dining table was doing in their home. The crows flew closer, the girl settling on Stephanie’s lap, and nibbled at her fingers reassuringly.

The princess soon returned, wearing such a grand dress Stephanie didn’t know where to compliment first. She settled on her knees in front of Stephanie, who turned red from embarrassment, and began to magic ( _magick_ Klarion pushed in Stephanie’s mind) her wounds and dirt away.

“I’ve ordered some clothes ready for you. And transport.”

“Thank you.”

“It’s not entirely selfless. Humans really shouldn’t be over here. The sooner you collect your boy, the sooner you’ll leave.”

Stephanie nodded, not wanting to outstay her welcome regardless. A violent stabbing pain shot up through her legs, causing her to gasp, but as quickly as the pain came, it faded. The princess was smiling, proud at her work.

“What a week I’ve had.” She said to herself.

“You got married, right?”

“Yes. And now a _human_ pays us a visit.” She sighed, rising up to look at her husband. “Can you find her winter clothes? She has far to go north.”

Stephanie watched as he left, only speaking when the princess sat down next to her.

“What’s the story there? The crows said he solved a riddle?”

“He did indeed. A no-one from nothing is now prince. But he was smart and solved it. A few others had as well, but there were two answers. His was the only one that I wanted to hear.” She smiled, in love. “If you break me, I do not stop working. If you touch me, I may be snared. If you lose me nothing will matter. What am I?”

“A heart.” Stephanie replied almost instantaneously. The princess laughed.

“Oh, of course a human knows immediately. I should have known. Our brains and worlds work differently. Different priorities. What is obvious to us is a mystery to you and vice versa.”

Stephanie shrugged humbly, inspecting her poor beaten gloves. “My father liked these sorts of things. I picked up a lot from him.”

“What is someone worth, if not for their heart? Intelligence is a fine attribute, but compassion, love, kindness… they are much more valuable. I encourage that here.”

Stephanie nodded sadly. “My… my… boyfriend.” She sneered as she said it, hating how juvenile it came across. Tim was much more than that. “He is one of the smartest people I know. But he’s also the kindest. But the witch, she froze his heart.”

“Love can melt it.”

Stephanie fought the urge to roll her eyes despite the certainty in the other woman’s voice. She thought back to the very last thing Tim did before he left, and Stephanie’s heart continued to sink. “He kissed me before he was taken. It did nothing. Was that him trying? One last time?”

The princess pet Stephanie’s golden hair. “Maybe. However, kisses are not love. They can show it, but there are other ways to melt a heart.”

“How?”

“No, no. That is for you to discover. This is your journey, we’re just here to help you on your way.” She inspected Stephanie closely, then smiled. “May I braid your hair?”

* * *

The clothes Stephanie were gifted were better than anything she had been given by the old woman, even before Stephanie had ripped it to shreds. Deep violet woollen tights and a full dress that reached her knees, detailed with silver embroidery, would keep the heat close to her body. The white woollen coat with a large heavy hood, lined with snow white fur, made her sweat just by looking at it. She had been warned that the warmth of this little haven would flee the moment she went north, and the ground would only grow more perilous. She was gifted a pair of brown boots that laced up tight and securely slid on her healed feet. Finally, she was given a new scarf, as violet as her underclothes, to ensure she would not freeze continuing north.

The carriage Steph was given was plain, painted brown, but the two white horses would be able to take her most of the way.

“The storm has settled three days north from what I can tell,” the prince explained, giving her a hand to get in. “You may have to do the last leg on foot, but so long as you have these clothes on, you won’t freeze.”

Stephanie settled down, then leaned out the little window, gripping the frame.

“Can I just ask… why are you helping me? Aside to make sure I leave quicker. You don’t want anything in return?”

The princess walked up and rested a hand over Stephanie’s. “I said so, kindness is admirable. I want to reward it. Keep your determination. It will see you through. Now in terms of payment… answer a question in return.”

Stephanie nodded.

“What’s the name of yourself and your boy?”

Stephanie gulped, so close to leaving the realm and moving onwards again, she didn’t know if this was a test.

“I don’t know if I should tell you.”

The princess smiled. “I am no threat to you or him.”

The lady crow swooped down and joined Stephanie in her carriage. Stephanie blinked, seeing that she would join her on her journey, at least for a little while. She looked back at the princess. “Stephanie. My name is Stephanie. Tim is my…”

“Your love.”

“…Yes.”

“This faithfulness you are showing, do you think it would be returned if places were swapped?”

“I know it would. This is me proving it to him. He has nothing to prove to me.”

The princess’ look became shrew once more. “As I am sure you have nothing to prove to him.”

“He would say so. But I want to do it all the same.”

“How very mature of you. A little girl you are not.”

Stephanie frowned. “There’s a saying about love which I liked. But I can’t remember it.”

The princess brushed a lose curly strand of hair off Stephanie’s face. In that moment she very much reminded Stephanie of Barbara.

“Love excuses, trusts, hopes, and endures. All things adulthood tries to strip from us.”

Stephanie blinked, pieces of her conversations with Tim and her journey in this realm starting to slip together. Love, childhood, mothers, siblings, adulthood, and young lovers…

“ _Oh_.”

Where to next?

The princess whistled sharply, making the horses begin their trot. Walking beside her on the forest floor, the princess only let go of Stephanie’s hand when she could keep up no longer. “Good luck Stephanie.” She called out. “I hope this boy is worthy of you.”

Stephanie leaned further out the carriage and thanked the young couple.

As the sped off, the crow settled on her lap and snoozed. She was not talkative company, but she was a little warm figure. Her comforting presence was delightful to Stephanie, whose hope was rekindled.

True to the princess’ word, the leaves began to turn the most wonderful shades of red, yellow, orange, and brown, falling to the ground and creating a wonderful crunch as the horses and carriage wheels pressed them down into the forest floor. A gravel road opened up, still shaded by trees, and Stephanie wondered if it would ever end. She did start to notice however, an increase in evergreen trees. In pines and yews and hollies. The temperature had dropped, but still Stephanie was just slightly too warm in her outfit. She kept it on though, not knowing when winter would arrive and leave her craving the warmth she still held.

Eventually the crow awoke. She was shocked at how far she had gone, not intending to travel as far north with Stephanie as she had, and hopped onto the window’s ledge, looking to fly off back to her brother and princess. Stephanie pecked the bird on the head as a thank you. She squawked joyfully upon receipt of the kiss, then flew off. Once again, aside from the horses magically knowing which direction to canter, Stephanie was alone. The silence continued, a little unnerving.

She would find Tim soon, she was sure of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Time:  
>  _A knife was thrust through the window, narrowly missing Stephanie's nose._
> 
> _"Oh finally!" She gasped. "Punching time!"_


	6. Autumn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another interruption takes Stephanie off course.

_She's only known heartache and pain  
She's never known pain like this  
She stands alone defending her name_

_Know that she's trying to be who she is  
Well, is it so wrong to be who we are  
When all that she's done is fail?_

_'Cause she's so nice, naïve and beautiful  
Why did she get taken for granted?  
Why does she live in a world so cold?  
He took advantage of the nice, naïve and the beautiful_

Nice, Naïve and Beautiful by Plumb

* * *

It was on the sixth time that Tim tried to leave her palace that the witch grew frustrated. Gripping his bare arm, she pulled him physically back into her throne room and up the stairs. She pushed him down on her throne, where he belonged, and tried one last time to make him see reason. She saw as the large sculpture melted slightly under his body temperature – colder than what any human was designed to survive certainly – but still warm enough to melt ice.

Her frustration mounted as she watched his eyes, nearly all soft blue leached from his irises, drift to the exit, and not at her. She gripped his chin and tilted it up to force him to look at her. He did, but it was obvious from his expression it wasn’t willingly.

“Why do you want to leave?” She asked, voice akin to a chiming bell. Tim supposed it could be nice to listen to, but he wasn’t really paying attention.

It took a long time for Tim to answer. His eyes once again drifted away, back towards the exit. Hypothermia caused confusion in humans, she knew this, but still, it made conversations frustratingly slow.

“Why do you want to leave?” She repeated. There was no anger in her voice, just a gentle curiosity.

Tim’s lip twisted, and he curled up into himself. It made a bizarre sight – a young man in just a t-shirt, jeans, and casual sneakers sat on a throne in an ice palace. The lady who had taken him ran a hand through his lovely black hair. She was wearing so many crystals and diamonds she hurt to look at, and her crown was white as her hair, eyes and skin. Tim assumed she was beautiful, though again, he couldn’t really bring himself to care.

“I’m bored and cold.” He finally answered. “I want to leave so I can get warm.”

“You can’t leave Tim. Your heart is frozen. If you go somewhere warmer, you’ll die. Being here with me is the only thing keeping you alive.”

He blinked uncomprehendingly at her.

“Why?”

“Because I want you here with me.”

That did nothing to abate Tim’s confusion and again, he asked, “Why?”

“I thought you might be different. I adore humans so… You are all so lovely, but you’re all so soft.” She brushed his cheek and for once he didn’t shiver, so cold was his skin that the temperature difference made no impact. “I try and pick one up, to keep me company, but their hearts can’t stand it, and they die from grief, from the cold, from loneliness… their hearts break. So, I freeze them, to try and keep them with me. I saw what you’ve been through, who you are, and thought you might survive. So, you can stay young, and handsome...”

Tim wasn’t really listening to her quiet explanation. Somewhere distantly it was registering amongst dozens of other informational sparks – he was cold, he was somewhere he had never been before, the lady’s face kept shifting in shape to women he felt he should recognize but didn’t, he knew how to get warm, he knew… he once knew… he couldn’t remember.

“I followed you because I was bored.” He said, looking her straight in the eye. Vaguely, he recognized he had interrupted her. “And I’m still bored.”

She smiled, but there was no joy to be found. “Of course, you are. I see how clever you are. It’s wasted in that city.”

Tim felt like that was a sentiment shared by many except himself. He wasn’t wasted in Gotham. He had many reasons to stay. Even if he couldn’t remember any of them.

No. Some things he could recall. No names, no faces, but he remembered and yearned. Hair like the sun and spun like gold. A songbird and a flower. Warm hands. A heartbeat. A kiss. 

He frowned at the witch.

“You took me from my warmth. I want to go back. I want it back.”

“Your warmth?” She chuckled. They had had this conversation six times at this point. Her smugness at the boy’s inability to escape the magic which held him here was only accompanied by a frustration that she couldn’t completely make him forget. Gently mocking, she breathed on him, ice forming in his hair. “Your _love_. The blonde girl? Do you even remember her name?”

Tim did not. He was not even aware that those memories related to another person.

“She will not come, Tim. No human can.”

Somewhere, like an instinct, Tim wanted to correct her. Somehow, he felt like the blonde girl could and would reach him, though he couldn’t remember why he wanted her so badly.

He got up to push back, but before he could, the tall witch pressed a kiss to his forehead. Tim gasped like she had sucked the air out of his lungs and fell back, limp and pale as a dead body, against the throne. He stared at his shoes, mind and voice silent, matching the quiet of the room. So quiet in fact, he could hear his very slow heartbeat in his ears.

“I’m bored.” He said finally, and his pale, empty eyes looked back at the exit. “And cold.”

Finally, the witch looked angry. She had pushed her magic to its limit, one more kiss and he would die, but no matter what she did, he wanted to return home. To the silly blonde girl who was neither his superior nor even equal. She hissed at the thought of him being another wasted experiment. Sneering, she leant forward, blocking Tim’s view from anything else. Spite flowed through her, and she decided to let the boy learn the hard way that he couldn’t go home. Even if it took a hundred years – and time passed so oddly here – for the message to make an impact in his cold frigid head, he’d learn to want nothing else but her time and attention. He’d forget his little thrumming heart and her hot tears and sunlight hair. She was nothing, not compared to the witch.

“You want to leave?” She smirked as Tim nodded. She ran her thumb over his lower lip, noting their blue colour. “You can leave when you finish a puzzle. If you quit, you must stay with me. How’s that sound, Tim?”

* * *

Stephanie tucked her hands into the muff she had been given. The princess had restored and cleaned her gloves, but there was something comforting about the muff keeping the tips of her fingers warm. The fur was thick, soft, and long. It felt good to play with. She had pulled the thick heavy hood up over her head, which reminded her of a sturdier version of her Spoiler cloak, and blinked heavily.

Somehow the horses knew where to go in the never-ending forest. Whenever Stephanie felt they were going off track, only a couple of minutes later they would redirect. It seemed to Stephanie they were taking her along the safest path.

Half a day passed, and she nibbled on some cheese and bread she had been gifted once sure enough that she was indeed out of the princess’ realm. She fell asleep in the carriage, exhausted from the past day’s events. She did not dream.

The screeching of the horses woke her up, as did the violent rocking of the carriage. It was dark out, but there was light in the form of torches. Stephanie, still bleary with sleep, peered out the window.

With a shock that promptly woke her up, a knife was thrust through the frame. She squeaked, throwing herself back against the seat as the knife narrowly missed her nose.

“Take the horses and anything she’s carrying! Even the clothes on her back!” Someone cried out. She heard the horses continue to shriek, kicking and bucking, and realised that she was being – for a lack of a better term – mugged.

“Oh finally!” She gasped. “Punching time!”

Stephanie kicked the side door open and jumped onto the nearest bandit, clambering onto their shoulders, and spinning, twisting the man off his feet. She rolled forward, fully prepared to fight off whomever would dare.

She did very well for herself, considering she was in a dress and fighting half blind in the dark. She counted eight men and woman, and had managed to knock five of them down semi-permanently when one – a giant hulking shadow of a man – managed to wrap his hand around her braided hair (Bruce had said she should have cut it he _told_ her) and threw her on the ground. Next thing she knew, there was a knife at her throat. She did not miss that it was red with dried blood. She hoped it was not people blood, but staring into the grey eyes of the man, she knew it was a foolish hope.

“A little lamb you are not.” He muttered, voice quiet and flat. Stephanie kicked and thrashed, but it was no good. She felt him press the knife down against her neck and she gasped. Panicking, the sound of her skin slicing open in a shallow long cut made the blood rush to her face.

Abruptly, the man grunted with pain and flinched back. Stephanie saw as a little boy, no more than ten, bit the ear of the man.

“Brat!” He grunted, getting up and spinning. The little boy hung off him like a remora clinging to a shark. Stephanie sat up, feeling the wound on her neck. It was not deep, but still, she could feel the warm blood trickling down and staining her dress and cloak. She looked over to the horses to see they remained, waiting for her to get back in the carriage. Somehow, they hadn’t bolted in the confusion. The idea of mounting one and riding, even bareback, seemed like the best option

She watched the little boy and the man (who Stephanie very quickly learnt was the boy’s father), argue and bite each other.

 _Nothing for it,_ Stephanie mused, _time to run again._

Getting up slowly, she tried to go round the back of the carriage and make a break for it, but alas, it was not to be. The little boy flung himself at her and, in her shock, she instinctively caught him and pulled him up into a piggyback. She regretted the reflex immediately, as the little boy grabbed her cheeks and made her turn around to look at the boy’s father. The father had a heavy brow and black hair, face twisted in a permanent frown. There was no softness or warmth to be found in his face, body or posture. The little boy on her back however, was wiry and thin, and his body temperature was hotter than any human she’d ever met.

“I want her!” The boy demanded. “A human here? Father I must keep her. She shall play with me and give me that fur muff and sleep with me in my bed.”

He said it all very certainly, like Stephanie was a willing participant to becoming the boy’s little pet cat. Writhing, she tried to hurl the boy off her back, only to be picked up by the father and tossed unceremoniously back in the carriage.

_Great. Another diversion._

“I want to ride in the carriage too!” Declared the little boy, hopping in next to Stephanie. He tugged her upright, so she was sitting once more, and the carriage took off, heading in the wrong direction.

“No, no! Listen, you need to let me go—”

“My father and my friends will not kill you unless I want them to.”

Stephanie snapped her mouth shut, taken aback by the bluntness with which the little boy spoke. He was a tiny thing, with a button nose and a pouty mouth. He had darker skin than her, and greener eyes. He was kind of adorable, in a brattish, pouty way. He wrapped his arms around her neck, which was slowly stopping its bleeding.

“They think you’re a princess, to be wearing such nice clothes and riding such a nice carriage.”

“I am absolutely not a princess.”

He looked a little sad that she had popped his bubble so easily, then he snuggled into her warm coat. Not really understanding why, she reached up and rested a hand on his outward facing cheek. She lowered her tone, trying to sound reasonable.

“Can you let me and one horse go? I don’t have anything valuable on me. I’m travelling north. Another human was taken, and I am trying to find him so we can go home. I’ll walk even if you want both horses.”

“You’re staying with me.”

“I know you want that, but I won’t be of much use to you.”

The little boy leaned back, pout growing to anger, and tugged out a knife from his belt. Before Stephanie could react, he laid back down on her again, this time the knife pointing inwards, where one of her ovaries was located. Stephanie gulped, wincing at the pain in her neck, then sighed resignedly. She’d have to try and escape whenever they reached their destination. Hopefully it wasn’t a fortress.

When they did grow close, Stephanie noted that the forest had given way. Finally the endless trees had opened up to rolling fields of grass. It was not thick warm green grass though, the kind you expected to find in the lush countryside, but more akin to heather and lichen. Heathland, Stephanie distantly realised.

Another knife greeted her when the door opened, and the little boy pulled her out of the carriage.

The robber’s home was a hamlet. Brown and grey stone buildings all built around a large fire pit which protected them from the cold wind which blustered around. The bonfire was huge, and it stank of smoke and cooked meats. Unhelpfully, Stephanie’s stomach grumbled. Pushing her over to a mound of furs and cushions next to an enclosed space filled with horses and what looked like a reindeer, the little boy shoved her down. He then clambered on her outstretched legs and tugged her two arms to wrap around him in a hug. Stephanie sighed sadly.

She watched as her carriage was broken up and added to the fire, and her horses were led into the stable next to her. They were immediately fed and brushed, so Stephanie relaxed a little. It seemed animals weren’t going to be harmed and judging by the small pile of content snoozing dogs and cats in another corner, it was unlikely they ever would be. For all their threats of stabbing, she wasn’t dead, and watching the people interact, it seemed like a boisterous bunch. They drank and ate and partied, but Stephanie and the little boy remained in the corner. She didn’t see any other children present, and the pair were ignored consistently as the night went on.

As the hours passed, she felt him press back against her, falling asleep himself. Stephanie looked at the groups of people sat on benches, laughing and enjoying the revelry. When there was sudden shouting or movement, reflexively, Stephanie tightened her arms around the little boy, as if to shield him from it.

“Where’s your mother?” She whispered, only half to the little boy, not expecting him to answer.

“Gone. She thought I was better off here and not with her.” He murmured. Watching the boy’s violent father get into a drunken fight with another man, Stephanie was not sure she agreed.

She looked down at the boy, and unhelpfully her thoughts drifted to her own child. Her baby girl. She would be five years old. Melancholy returned to Stephanie, and she sagged under the weight of it. It was not that Stephanie regretted her choice of a closed adoption, she just hoped her next try would be... Less ill timed and with a better partner. She felt bad for her daughter, who in all manner of ways deserved better than a biological mother like Stephanie. A child should be wanted and loved. Stephanie would have tried, of course she would have, but deep down she knew, she would not have been good enough for that little girl. Not at aged fifteen.

She wondered what Tim’s children would look and behave like. She wilted, condemning herself for even considering such a thought. And yet... She wanted it.

If she did ever have children with Tim, a very bitter part of her hoped her daughter never ran across her with them. She could only imagine the potential trauma of such a sight.

_You weren’t good enough to keep._

The little boy seemed to sense her melancholy and pulled at her arms. “Come meet my animals.”

Feeling sorry for the little boy and wanting a distraction from her traitorous thoughts, she did as bid. She picked him up, which seemed to delight him, and he directed her around the area. He pointed out a dove cot on the outskirts of the stone buildings.

“They are all mine. A few of them need tying down, else they would fly away and leave me.” He pointed elsewhere, at the snoozing pile of dogs. Stephanie walked over with him still in her arms, and he wriggled down to wake a large black dog. The poor dog looked sad to be awoken, but the little boy was insistent Stephanie meet each of his pets.

“I was gifted him when I was born. He is an old dog now, all he does is sleep and eat. Go on Modig, say hello!”

If Stephanie was expecting the dog to actually speak, she was disappointed. The dog gave a curious sniff, no doubt noting she did not smell like anything else in this realm, then licked her hand. She giggled a little at the sensation, then patted his giant head. The little boy in turn was openly delighted.

“…And this,” he dragged her back to the stables, to the horses and reindeer, “is Abie. He is a sweetheart, but he would leave too if untied. So, I tickle his neck sometimes with my knife. Just so he remembers.”

He looked at Stephanie, who watched the animal buck a little when the boy got close. The boy frowned, seeing that she was upset at the thought of the animal being harmed. He was still holding onto his knife, so he huffed and tugged Stephanie back onto the pile of furs. She groaned as they collapsed in the pile. Her neck ached.

“Do you always sleep with a knife in your hand?” Stephanie whispered, noting it was pressed between them, tip near her sternum.

“You never know who is out here.” He said simply. He remained awake until his family went to bed, his father not once coming over to check on him. The fire continued to burn long after the party had ended, keeping the cold at bay.

The silence endured for only a moment, whilst Stephanie tried to think of a way out.

“Tell me a story.” The boy demanded, eyes screwed shut.

“About what?”

“You. How you came to be here.”

Stephanie swallowed dryly and told her story. She continued to keep her and Tim’s names off her lips, not sure who else was listening. Again, as if on instinct, she repeatedly passed a hand through the boy’s dark hair, watching his eyes flutter shut, and his breathing deepen and slow.

When she was sure the little boy was asleep, there was a feeling in the air that dawn would soon break. The little boy had gone limp in his slumber, limp enough for Stephanie to extract herself from their bed, and crawl over to the reindeer and horses. She reached around, trying to untie one of her white horses, when a fussing noise made her look up.

Sat on one of the beams of the stable was a chubby wood pigeon with a puffed up chest, brooding down at her.

“I heard your story. I saw the witch a few weeks ago, before I was caught. You are not far from her palace. Two days ride. It is all snow and ice from here on out.”

Raw hope rose, and an idea sprung forward in Stephanie’s mind. She looked back at the reindeer, who was watching her mournfully. He chuffed softly when Stephanie caught his eye. She reached out, letting him nuzzle her hand.

“Do you want to leave?” She whispered. “Do you want to go home back north?”

The reindeer shook its great head, almost nodding.

“Can you take me to her palace? Just get me there, I can worry about coming back. You can be free then in the cold if you like.”

Coming back. The thought had not even crossed her mind before this point. She was so close to her goal, what was she supposed to do when she rescued Tim?

 _If_ she rescued Tim.

The reindeer pushed at her shoulder, warm breath blowing loose strands of hair off her face. He put his great head down further, allowing her easier access to the rope that held him against his will.

She exhaled with relief, then after briefly checking behind her, reached up to undo the knots.

“A little bit more time Tim,” Stephanie sighed, “Please just a little more time.”

The tip of a knife pressed against her neck, and the reindeer became skittish in fear. She froze, then slowly lowered her hands. She didn’t need another wound in her neck.

“You cannot leave.”

It was the little boy, awake and upset. Stephanie turned to face him. There was no anger in his eyes, just sadness. She took a risk and reached up, taking the knife out of his hand and setting it down on the hay covered floor.

She cradled the little boy’s face, ruddy and sweet.

“I have a job to do. I need to do it. I want to do it. Can you let me leave?”

The boy sniffed, a fat tear running down his face. “I want you to stay.”

“I know.” Brushing the tear away, she smiled, trying to be reassuring. She felt almost like a mother abandoning her child, as irrational as it sounded. He must have been quite lonely, with only his animals to keep him company with such a rough family. “I’m sorry. But I can’t stay. I don’t belong in this world. And neither does my love. We have to go home.”

The little boys face crumpled, and Stephanie’s heart jerked. He reminded her too much of Damian. The bluster and loneliness, the desire for approval and difficult parents. She wondered what she would say to Damian, if it were him in front of her. What would she say to the _other_ boy who had threatened to stab her several times over the course of a night?

“Listen, believe me. I think you’re a very good boy. Please stay that way. And here, please keep this.” She said, handing over her little muff. “To remember me.”

The boy snatched it and buried his hands inside. He sniffed, then insisted, “Take my knife. And take good care of Abie.”

“I promise.”

He helped her untie Abie, and in a show of gratitude, she kissed his forehead. The boy’s face turned redder from embarrassment, and he helped her onto the reindeer. There was no saddle, so it would not be a comfortable ride, however the snow and ice was where the reindeer belonged. He could take her further than any horse.

The little boy gripped the antlers of the reindeer and shook his head, uttering a warning.

“I would like very much to keep you both here, but I am being good and letting you go. Put your best hoof forward and carry her to the palace and her playmate. Do not fail me!”

The sun broke the horizon, and the sound of the little boy’s father awakening seemed to panic him. He slapped Abie’s rear, who snorted and set off in a canter.

Stephanie looked back, seeing the boy run after them for a moment, only to stop at the edge of the hamlet, looking entirely too young and small and alone.

Blinking back tears, she cried out a thank you, then turned forward, gripping the dense fur of Abie’s neck as he ran north. Occasionally she’d tug on one side to turn him slightly left or right, still following the yearning in her chest, but otherwise he continued unprompted.

Soon the cool wind became frigid, the heathland became tundra, permafrost, icy then snow. Then the snow deepened. One foot, two feet, six feet… like an endless sea of rolling white. There was no cloud in the sky, and every breath Stephanie gave seemed to hurt, not only the cut in her neck, but also her throat, like it was freezing her lungs going in. When she exhaled, the steam that she blew out was sometimes so thick she would go temporarily blind with it. Her fingertips ached from gripping so tightly to Abie’s fur and from the temperature freezing her skin, but she would be unable to maintain her hold on the galloping reindeer if she let go.

“Don’t suppose you know how to enter the palace do you?” She questioned out loud. Abruptly the reindeer came to a crashing halt, throwing Stephanie forward against his neck with a squeal. It huffed and chuffed, kicking in frustration. Stephanie tightened the grip of her legs, ignoring the ache it caused. “Gosh, what is it? What’s wrong?”

Abie looked back at her, smacking her in the face with his antlers. Stephanie suspected his expression read as incredulous, so she pouted and ranted,

“Oh, come on! I’ve been making this up as I go! I don’t know how to do what I have to do; I just know that I have to do it.”

Abie rolled his eyes, unimpressed. He rotated deliberately, taking them a little bit west, then set off again. Stephanie tugged on his fur and kicked with her legs, but the reindeer seemed determined to take her to a different destination.

“No, come on please! I’m so close. Where are we going? Just over one more day’s ride, right?”

The reindeer bucked, making her shut her mouth, and she risked letting go of one hand to grab her hood and pull it up to protect her ears from the bitter cold.

They ran until midday, when in the distance, nestled in a snow dune, appeared a wooden cabin.

“Who…?”

The reindeer began to make a racket, announcing their arrival to the resident of such an isolated residence. Stephanie heard its occupant before she saw them.

“Oh, my goodness! Who has upset you so! You’d think the world was ending or –”

A decrepit old woman, who was bent in half and covered head to toe in bright red fabric, with glasses so small they seemed little more than pennies on her face thrust the door open. She peered at the sight of a reindeer carrying a girl on its back, looking baffled.

“What? A _human_? Here?”

Stephanie tried very hard not to roll her eyes.

_Great. Another diversion._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Time:  
>  _"You're going to have give something up, something you love, something he loves, in order to reach the throne room."_
> 
> _Stephanie thought for a moment, then offered her hands entreating, "My gloves. I made them for him. Took me weeks. Would these do?"_
> 
> _The lady sighed, then pushed Stephanie's hands back towards her chest._
> 
> _"No. I'm afraid that's not enough." She inspected Stephanie from head to toe, and Stephanie fought the urge to push that there was nothing else on her that Tim loved, outside of her own life._
> 
> _Oh. Was this where it had all been heading? Childhood, first love, parenthood... Death?_
> 
> _Clasping her hands to her chest, she begged, "There has to be something..."_


	7. Winter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stephanie gets one last helping hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A day early but we're nearly there. I'm partially through the final chapter and I'm thinking I may need to split it over into an epilogue... we shall see. Regardless, here you go! Please leave a kudos or comment if you enjoy!

_Embrace me, filling your arms_   
_Give me warmth and eventually I’ll open my eyes_   
_And start to move, yes I will move_

_If I weakly waver l_ _ike a miracle, oh_  
 _In this cold, covering all_  
 _A blossoming flower_

In the Frozen by Dreamcatcher

* * *

Stephanie grew angry, frustrated that this world seemed determined to take her through one long extended metaphor of her interpersonal relationships. Whomever this old woman was supposed to be, she had no time for it.

“Yes, yes. ‘Tis me. A human being. I am trying to get to the ice witch’s palace, but _this_ lovely creature decided here was a better stop. Not to be rude but… I’m not here willingly.”

The old woman smiled at Stephanie’s attitude.

“Come in. Warm up. If you want into that palace I can help, but I’ll need to know your purpose.”

“No,” Stephanie stubbornly pushed back. “I can find my own way in.”

The lady was not impressed, trudging up to Stephanie and Abie. She grabbed Stephanie’s ankle and tugged hard, making Stephanie tumble off the reindeer and land face first in the snow.

“You will die if you just barge in with no idea how that magic works. Only a fool would do such a thing.”

Raising her head, spitting out snow and glowering at the woman, Stephanie sardonically replied, “Maybe I _am_ a fool.”

“A fool in love?”

Stephanie’s jaw twitched and the lady sighed. She held out a palm for Stephanie to take.

“You haven’t gotten this far on your own. The final steps will be yours, but you will need one last push to get you over the edge.” Chewing her lip, Stephanie took the woman’s hand and was hauled up. After being allowed inside the sweltering hut, Stephanie perched herself on a little wooden bench, taking off her cloak and shoes. The old woman looked back at Abie, “You can come in too Mr Reindeer.”

“His name is Abie,” Stephanie interjected.

Abie trotted inside. He was a little bit too big for the space, but it seemed he appreciated the warmth as much as the plate of beetroot that the lady placed in front of him as he settled on some hay near the fire. The lady pat his large head and looked to Stephanie,

“A good name. What’s yours?”

A plate of cheesy potatoes was pulled out of the oven. Stephanie’s stomach once again grumbled, and she swallowed sorely.

“Oh no. I’m done playing that game. Last time a nice old lady offered me food and help and asked my name I ended up brainwashed for weeks.”

The woman seemed amused at Stephanie’s short fuse temper and asked, “Which old lady?”

“Who knows. A cottage by a big river. I was drowning and she picked me up…” Stephanie looked down at her gloves, feeling a stab of sympathy for the old lady. “I think she was lonely and wanted the company. I must have looked like a gift from God.”

The old lady snorted, unimpressed.

“Good thing I have no interest in letting you stay here very long then,” and Stephanie watched as the old lady piled two plates high full of cheesy goodness. “I am a witch, not like the one whose castle you are hunting, but I look after the land surrounding. There’s a couple of us here and there. We maintain our little plots of land and try to keep out of trouble from people like the Princess of Summer or the Snow Queen.”

“I met the Summer Princess, I think. She’d just gotten married.”

The old lady made an impressed face. “Red hair? Green eyes? Jaundice skin?”

Stephanie nodded, “Yes. A palace in the trees?”

The old lady whistled, sitting down next to Stephanie, and tucking into her meal. She placed the second plate and fork on Stephanie’s lap.

“Took her long enough. She’s a good girl really, a little proud, but when things get hard our pride is all we have. Her pride prevented her happiness for some time though.”

Stephanie sighed, looked at the potatoes, then Abie resting against the fire, and turned to eat. It was very tasty.

The two ate in silence for a while, and when Stephanie was finished, the lady took her plate and placed it in the sink.

“So,” the woman said gripping her counter. “A human crossed the border and is trying to get to the Snow Queen’s palace. There is strong magic around her home. I can help you cross, but I need to know why.”

“She took someone.”

“Another human? Yes, she does that sometimes.” The old lady turned, a suspicious eye on Stephanie. “But no-one has ever been followed. No rescue attempt has ever been made. You jumped borders to find them. Who is this person to you?”

“He’s my… he’s mine. My person. My boy.”

The woman’s suspicious look grew soft, “Your heart?”

“I love him very much,” Stephanie said simply. “He doesn’t deserve to be abandoned or forgotten.”

The heat was becoming uncomfortable, so Stephanie looked for permission to take off her tights.

“Oh, yes. Sorry. I have to keep it very warm here.”

“Understandably.”

The woman with a sigh sat down opposite Stephanie once more. She grew solemn.

“It is good, that you are motivated by love. She doesn’t understand such a thing. It means you can get inside.”

Stephanie could not let go entirely of her suspicion of witches, and asked, “Why would you help me? Surely it won’t matter to you if I fail or succeed. Actually, if anything, if I do succeed… she might hurt you.”

“Oh, she wouldn’t dare. Don’t you worry about that. It’ll be nice for her to learn a lesson about humans and their tenacity for once. I’m tired of her taking and taking with no thought to the consequences. She sees you all as so weak.” A breath, a stilted silence, and Stephanie waited patiently. When the woman spoke again, it was with a quiet urgency, a need to make Stephanie understand the severity of her quest. “You're going to have to give something up, something you love, something _he_ loves, in order to reach the throne room."

Stephanie thought for a moment, then offered her hands entreating, "My gloves. I made them for him. Took me weeks. Would these do?"

The lady sighed, then pushed Stephanie's hands back towards her chest.

"No. I'm afraid that's not enough." She inspected Stephanie from head to toe, and Stephanie fought the urge to push that there was nothing else on her that Tim loved, outside of her own life.

Oh. Was this where it had all been heading? Childhood, first love, parenthood... _Death_?

Clasping her hands to her chest, she begged, "There has to be something..."

Reaching forward, the lady tugged the at the hair tie that held in what remained of the fantastic braid the Summer Princess had given Stephanie. It had mostly fallen out during the fight and flight from the robbers, but still. The lady lightly combed her trembling wrinkled fingers through Stephanie’s hair. It was still curly and wavy, a little bit wild, but soft and shining.

It really was too long. But Tim liked it, even if he had never said so aloud, so she had put off getting it cut for over a year. She liked that he liked it.

Stephanie’s breathing stilled. “Take it.”

“You’re sure?” The lady brushed Stephanie’s cheek as she stood up. Fumbling through some cabinets, it seemed she was looking for a pair of scissors.

“It’ll grow back,” Stephanie pushed. Grabbing the curls in two bundles, she shook the golden strands. “It’s like twenty inches at this point. I don’t need it. Not if it will help Tim.”

Panting with panic, Stephanie watched the lady struggle to find anything to chop her hair with. There was a spinning wheel in the corner but the woman honestly didn’t have a pair of scissors?

“A simple pair of scissors will not do,” said the woman, seemingly reading Stephanie’s mind. _What else would work?_

“Wait, here,” and Stephanie pulled out from her belt the knife the boy had given her. “Can you use this?”

The woman looked shocked that Stephanie even had such a thing. “Where did you get this?”

“A little boy gave it to me. The robbers who live by the edge of the forest.”

The woman took the knife. “ _This_ is a very special weapon. He would not have let go of such a thing so lightly.”

Stephanie resolved to find the precious boy and return the knife once her and Tim began their journey home.

Moving behind Stephanie, the woman twisted up her hair into the beginnings of what would have been a French twist. Holding the knife near the base of her neck, Stephanie prayed she hadn’t made a mistake of trusting the wrong person.

The woman paused and asked for one last confirmation, “This isn’t just hair, you know? Well, it is for you maybe, but over here –”

“I’ve cut it short before. He didn’t care. Hurry up,” Stephanie snapped. “I need to go to him, he needs me. Long hair or bald.”

“Well you won’t be bald,” the lady reassured, tone teasingly pleasant. “Just a little bit of a choppy cut. But still, I’ll ask again. What’s your name? And what is the name of the boy you are hunting for?”

Stephanie gulped, knowing she probably didn’t have much of a choice, especially with a sharp knife very close to her spinal cord.

“My name is Stephanie Brown. And I’m wanting to find Timothy Drake and bring him home.”

The woman whispered to herself, and then the sound of the sharp knife cutting through her hair like hot butter made Stephanie shiver and cry out, almost as if someone had pulled one of her fingers from its joint. For an unknown reason she began to cry. She felt the short strands of hair fall down and frame her face. Her right hand went up to feel the damage and the woman stepped in front of her. She placed the knife back in Stephanie’s lap and shook the thick and long clump of hair in her other hand. Stephanie looked up at her, eyes wet and red.

“You’ll have to wait a bit longer,” the old woman said as she trundled over to the spinning wheel. Feeling unsteady on her feet, Stephanie got up and watched the old woman whisper at her chopped off hair and begin to thread the machine.

“You can’t make yarn out of human hair,” Stephanie protested, voice thick with phlegm made by her tears. “It’s not good for that.”

“Ahem. Who is the magic lady here? You’ve heard stories of people turning hay to gold right?”

“Rumpelstiltskin?”

“That’s a terrible name. But if we can do it with hay, imagine what we can do with hair…”

And she began to spin, muttering to herself every now and then, whilst Stephanie repeatedly ran her hands through her short hair. Shortly after her first pregnancy she had chopped most of it off and obsessively straightened it. Back then she had told herself it was because it was getting difficult to manage its length under her Spoiler mask, but in hindsight it made just as much sense to blame it on wanting to start fresh. She had her baby, she knew Tim’s name, and they had begun their relationship in earnest, both as Robin and Spoiler and Tim and Steph. New beginnings and all that. She’d also wanted Dana and Jack to take her more seriously. Short straight hair belonged to a more responsible lady. Not a frivolous teen mom. Fat lot of good it had done her, but she had tried.

She had tried.

“Listen closely,” the woman said, twisting the hair and pressing the pedal as she worked. “I know what she does to the humans she brings back with her. She longs for their fragile beauty to be preserved, but the entire kidnapping process is just too traumatic for humans, so they quickly die. From the cold, from grief… doesn’t matter. They can’t survive with her. So, in recent decades, she’s been testing freezing their hearts. They can survive longer in the cold that way. But freezing their hearts strips them of what she loves about humans. But she’s too foolish to understand _why_ she loves them so.”

She paused and looked at Stephanie. A moment passed of uncomfortable silence, and the woman narrowed her dark eyes at Stephanie.

“ _You_ know why you love this boy, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me.”

“Does it matter? Is chopping my hair off and coming all this way not proof enough that I love him?”

The lady was having none of Stephanie’s bashful anger, and pushed harder, “I need to know why.”

Stephanie grabbed a tuff of her short hair and walked away, over to Abie and the fire. She was sweating, she was so warm.

“Because he _understands_. He understands what I’ve gone through and he doesn’t think me weak or foolish for it. He’s watched me grow up and he’s proud of me. He’s grown up too. He doesn’t make me do things I don’t want to do. He indulges whatever stupid fancy I get into my head. Like me growing flowers as a substitute for children because he knows that it’s just what I need to do at that moment to work through something in my head. I’m not a victim to him, I’m a hero. He’s beautiful. He has breath that smells like coca cola and he holds me like if I’m not there with him nothing in the world makes sense. He told me once I keep him on the straight and narrow and I like that what I think matters to him. He’s so smart and he’s so kind and genuine and when we argue it’s not over whether or not I forgot to do the laundry last night… Because he’s been through so much pain, that it leaks out in odd ways… he tries so hard to not let it colour the good times. And yet he tries to be better. And I want to help him be better because he believes I am better too. And he’s gentle. Oh my God… he’s so gentle with me. I can't give that up. No-one else has ever come close.”

The sound of the fire crackling and the reindeer snoring filled the cabin, and eventually the cranking of the spinning wheel stopped. Stephanie looked up to see gold embroidery thread in the woman’s left hand and a needle in the right. She looked at Stephanie like a proud grandmother.

“Sew this into your gloves. You’ll be able to open the doors of her palace then.”

Brushing her cheeks clear of tears, Stephanie nodded, sat down, took off the gloves, and set to work.

“You’ll enter the palace, and then you’ll find him. Then what?”

“We’ll go home.”

“He may not be able to leave. He may not want to leave. He may not remember you, or home, or your family. Any of it.”

“Magic?”

“Magick,” the lady corrected, and Stephanie rolled her eyes. “When his behaviour changed, what preceded it?”

Stephanie paused in her sewing, thinking out loud. “He’d seen a figure in the storm. It must have been her watching him. We were playing outside, and the snow picked up. He was looking upwards, sticking his tongue out to catch snowflakes. Something got in his eye. It was so sudden.”

“It’s a speciality of hers. A type of glass. It gets in your body and freezes everything. No love, no warmth. It fades away. All that’s left is an insatiable boredom and coldness in both mind and body that can’t be relieved.”

“He kissed me,” Stephanie remembered. “Right before he left. I think it was him, one last burst, before he slipped away.”

The lady smiled and wrapped up the cooled dinner she had made, setting it on the windowsill.

“True love’s kiss? Clever boy to try. It works in some instances, but not here. This is a physical object that needs removing.”

“From his eye? What can I do? Aside ripping out his eyeball.”

“Don’t… don’t dismiss the possibility entirely.”

“I will _not_ hurt him.”

The lady tapped Stephanie’s breastbone. “You humans. All so soft. So warm. I believe you know what kind of world you are in Stephanie. Play by our rules. It will get you there. I believe in you, for what an old lady’s opinion is worth.”

Stephanie watched at the lady settled in a rocking chair and closed her eyes to rest. Tilting her head, Stephanie smiled.

“I know who you remind me of.”

“Someone nice I hope.”

“A doctor. Back home. She gave me a second chance. Made me realise I’m not a total failure.”

The lady smiled in response. “Who else have you met on your journey?”

“Mother…best friend… mentor… family of maybe one day in-laws? And you.”

“Who is left then?”

Stephanie’s smile faltered, and she returned to sewing. “No-one good.”

She wasn’t intending to make a pattern with the thread. She didn’t have time. She did the hems of the wrists and fingers and made several lines of hidden stitches up and down the ribbing. She worked until she ran out of thread.

She put the gloves back on. In the dimming light of dusk, they glimmered. Golden lines shooting through the pitch black. Stephanie stood up and announced,

“Done.”

Abie looked up, sensing she would be setting off soon. The old lady rose up and opened the front door, letting the cold flood in. The sun had nearly set.

“It will not rise again for you. Eternal winter from here on out. Which is good news for you, hate to have you go snow blind.” The lady walked to Abie and pat his nose with careful deliberateness. “Drop her off at the red berry bushes. Then come back here.”

In a flurry of excitement that panicked Steph, the reindeer bucked up and thrust his big snout under Stephanie, pushing her up and over onto his back.

“No wait! I need to get my coat and shoes and –”

“Good luck Stephanie!” The lady proclaimed at the door, gesturing for Abie to set off once more. “The gloves will keep you warm for a time, but not forever. You'll need to gift them over to Timothy if you want to leave the palace. Be swift!”

“I’ll _freeze_!”

She tried to get off, but the reindeer once again began to canter, causing her to shriek in fright and pain. No cloak, bare legs and toes, with only a peasant blouse and a purple pinafore dress to protect her from the cold. Her mittens wouldn’t even protect her fingertips.

“No, no, _no_. I’m no good to anyone if I’m dead,” she howled over the wind, which stole her voice away. “You have to take me back.”

The reindeer ignored her and continued onwards. Feeling like she was being stabbed thousands of times by the smallest of needles, she continued to cry out in pain, fingers tightening in the reindeer’s fur in an attempt to focus her brain.

Eventually Abie slowed to a trot, unable to keep up the pace, and Stephanie was allowed to catch her breath. She was cold, of course she was, but not enough to fear for her life just yet. Maybe she had a bit of extra endurance thanks to the old lady and the gloves, but still; she would have had a lot more time if she had been allowed to put on her tights.

They continued along in the darkness. The sky was clear, and Stephanie spent most of the journey looking up at the sky. Moonlight did its job enough to let her see shadows and adjust so she was not riding blind. She’d seen the Milky Way from her time in Africa, but still. This was another planet, so their stars and galaxies were different. Her mouth dropped open as her eyes adjusted, and she laughed with joy at the sight of the night sky in full.

She had no idea for how long they ran. At some point the equivalent of the Northern Lights sprung into life, dancing across the sky. It was the first time Stephanie had seen such a thing, and she marvelled at the dancing blue, green and purple lights, shimmering like curtains in the breeze. They were so bright they lit up the snow as they crossed hill after mound, up and down across sweeping valleys. Abie chuffed and sped up a little.

“Are we getting close? We must be…” Stephanie asked. Her heart stuttered, and she knew her question to be true.

They finally crossed the summit of one final peak, and Stephanie gasped loudly at the sight. Where the Princess of Summer had seemingly taken care to integrate her home into the surrounding environment, the palace that Stephanie gawked at in the centre of the valley was anything but incorporated.

It was far too large to be occupied by one creature. It spanned the width of the valley, seemingly hovering a hundred feet from the valley basin, a frozen river flowing underneath. There was one path in and out of the structure, the road built into the hillside. Numerous towers in sharp angular shapes pierced the lit-up atmosphere, and the entire fortress glowed and reflected the dancing night sky.

Very distantly, Stephanie could see a purple blob on the river. Tilting her head, she realised it was her car, half buried in snow and ice.

The pair slowly made their way down the pass. Stephanie brought her feet up, her toes burning from the cold, to tuck them under her legs. The reindeer had a broader back than any horse, so she tried her best to perch delicately. Her shivering had gotten painful, teeth chattering and breathing difficult. She readjusted her grip on his neck, and lowered herself down, trying to take some of his warmth. What had that woman done, sending her out here with none of her warm clothes?

White bare trees marked the beginning of the bridge, which was lined with red holly bushes. Abie stopped, and Stephanie knew this was where she was on her own. Looking down, at the snow and ice that she would have to plant her feet into, she gulped. Slowly, bracing, she lowered herself down, crying out when her toes reached the floor. The snow was so tightly packed she did not sink in, but her body temperature was still warm enough to melt it slightly underfoot. She very quickly felt chilblains developing. Much more time here and she would be frostbitten.

She looked to the reindeer, who seemed a little mournful, like he was sending her off to her doom. She smiled shakily and smacked a wet kiss to his snout.

“Thank you, Abie. Be good!”

Abie chuffed, then turned around and left her. The sound of his snow treading hooves filled the valley, and Stephanie heard her own pulse throbbing in her head. She watched him go, just for a moment, then turned back towards the road. Shaking her feet like she would before a sprint and taking several icy breaths, building herself up for her task, she sprinted across the bridge. Going through the front door was perhaps not the most sensible option, but it was the only entrance she could see. She wasn’t about to go smashing her way into an ice palace (yet). She tried to keep quiet as she bolted across the several hundred-metre stretch, but the cold stung, and she cried out in pain.

There was no wind. There was no life. Empty and beautiful and cold. The purple and green sky made her feel like she was in a nightmare, the feeling akin to when she had been in and out of fevered consciousness during her time with Black Mask. The visuals made no sense and she was cold. Very cold.

Death. It was just like lying on that hospital bed, Leslie forcibly restarting her heart the few times it found the strain of living with a broken body too much.

She crashed into the huge door, slipping when the snow turned to ice, and the sounded reverbed over the valley. She fumbled with the huge doors, trying to locate something to grip and push or pull so she could slide in, but it was perfectly smooth and clear – clear enough to let her see the inside. There was no-one, nothing. No sign of life to be found.

She banged on the door hard, shrieking,

“Hey! _Hey_! You have someone who doesn’t belong to you! _Give him back_! Hello! Let me in!”

Kicking did no good, nor did body slamming it. Hot tears began to form again, and after one ill advised head butt, she slumped forward on her knees. There was not even a crack in the ice from all her efforts. It was _ice_ , not diamond, why couldn’t she make a dent?

“I haven’t come all this way to be beaten at the front door,” she hissed. She pressed her gloved hands against the ice. “You can’t… you can’t keep him from me. Let me in!”

Something in the ice gave way, and she stumbled forward onto her thighs. Her hands, or rather the gloves, had melted all the way through. Squealing, she got a grip on the other side, and ripped through a hole. She did it again and again, opening up a space near the ground that was big enough for her to crawl through.

She scrambled inside ungraciously, and to her disappointment it was no warmer inside than outside. She remained on the floor, strength leaving her, until she was able to grip what she supposed was a side table and haul herself up. Movement caught her eye as she rose, and when she looked to the side, tense, she screeched. The sound echoed through the empty high-ceilinged antechamber. Stephanie cringed at how girly she sounded as she lost her footing on the ice and slipped, smacking her head again.

_Well, now everyone knows you’re here._

Everyone being no-one, as no movement or noise appeared in response to her antics. Grunting, she pulled herself up to look in the mirror which had frightened her. Still not quite to grips with her appearance, she again reached up and curled her fingers into her hair.

It was lopped so choppily into a bob that, coupled with her full bangs, it made her look like she was six years old again, when she had found a pair of scissors in the bathroom and deigned to give herself a haircut. Crystal had found it funny. Arthur had not.

Her nose was red, as were her cheeks. Her lips were cracked and raw, and the skin around her eyes were stiff and sore. The water she had cried had quickly frozen in the wind as her and Abie ran, and it had not been kind to her skin. There was a giant red mark on her forehead from headbutting a solid ice door. She looked a mess.

“Keep going,” she breathed, trying not to falter. “Nearly there. Keep going, Steph.”

She stirred up enough energy to jog through the palace, occasionally losing her footing on the slippery ice.

Stephanie followed the corridors inwards, the refracting and reflecting light from outside disorientating and confusing. No matter which way she turned, no matter which empty rooms she entered, they all seemed to be pointing towards the centre of the structure. She cried out for Tim every now and then, in the empty hollow rooms, seeing as there was nothing living in the castle, but in her heart she knew, even if he could hear her, he probably wouldn’t care enough to answer.

As she continued, her pace slowed. Her limbs grew heavier and her walking faltered. It became her pushing herself upwards and onwards, only to make it a few steps before collapsing to her knees again. She used the walls and what little furniture there was as support, but she was sluggish and tired. Her limbs burned and breathing was laborious.

Finally, she reached another set of doors, these ones made from a crystal rather than ice, so she could not see what lay on the other side. Her heart thumped erratically, and she was sweating. She was _so_ close. This door had handles thankfully, so Stephanie managed to grip it, getting to her feet one last time, and shove it open.

A huge amphitheatre opened up before her, dozens of meters high. There were steps down leading to the main open space which circled around a throne, suspended on what looked like a gravity defyingly crooked and thin staircase.

At the base, sat very neatly with crossed legs, was Tim.

“Tim!” Stephanie cried out. He looked up at her, face confused, and even from the distance, Stephanie could see he did not look well.

Her heart jerked, throwing her forwards. Stephanie took a step to run down to meet him, but her feet had grown numb from the cold, and she stumbled.

Tim watched, disinterested, as a blonde girl wearing a thin blouse and woollen dress fell down the clear stairs. She was not quiet in her descent, crying out and cursing at each solid smack and crack. She tumbled head over ankles before coming to rest for a moment on the flat ground. Tim watched as she whimpered and lay still for a moment, apparently catching her breath.

Feeling nothing more than confusion over the bizarre appearance, his attention returned to his task of spelling a word from broken mirror shards.

“ _Tim_!”

When he looked up at the sound of his name, the blonde girl crashed into him, wrapping him up in the warmest embrace he had felt for weeks. Her hot breath moved through his hair, and he felt a solid, tempting heat emanate from the centre of her chest.

“Tim,” she sobbed. “Tim! I found you!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Time: _“Tim, Tim, Tim… Honey, it’s me. It’s Stephanie. I’m here to take you home. Can you come home with me? Do you want to come home with me?”_
> 
> _She brushed her fingers over his cheeks, she pressed kisses to his forehead, she pressed forward until she was practically sitting on his lap, but Tim did nothing but stare. Cradling his cheek, she forced him to look at her when she saw his eyes were drifting back down to the floor._
> 
> _Her breathing, already erratic and shallow, cut off completely. Tim’s pale blue eyes, already bordering on grey, were sapped of any colour at all. Just a thin ring of his blue iris indicated where his sclera ended. Lips and nose turning blue, skin white. Too white skin. He still looked beautiful, because of course he did, but in the way that an ice sculpture was beautiful. She became frightened to hold him in case he would crack. Swallowing hard, she entreated,_
> 
> _“I know you’re cold. And you can’t remember anything. But I can help you get warm again. I can help you leave."_


	8. A Heart Melts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stephanie catches up to Tim

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep...had to split the final chapter. Final one will be next week!

_Mistakes our fathers made, will always be the same that we make_   
_Oh, we never learn_   
_We light up our hands and watch them burn_   
_It's such a lonely world, I found someone who made it all seem right again_   
_But I let fear get in the middle and I ran and I stopped to look back_   
_Oh dreamer, I never should have let go of your hands_   
_Oh dreamer, I swear I'll regret it for the rest of my days_

_Hold on to your gold_   
_When you find her, never let her go_

Gold by Chelsea Wolfe

* * *

“Tim?! Ti-Tim… Honey, it’s me. It’s Stephanie. I’m here to take you home. Can you come home with me? Do you want to come home with me?”

She brushed her fingers over his cheeks, she pressed kisses to his forehead, she pressed forward until she was practically sitting on his lap, but Tim did nothing but stare. Cradling his cheek, she forced him to look at her when she saw his eyes were drifting back down to the floor.

Her breathing, already erratic and shallow, cut off completely. Tim’s pale blue eyes, already bordering on grey, were sapped of any colour at all. Just a thin ring of his blue iris indicated where his sclera ended. His lips and nose had turned blue, and his skin was white. Too white. He still looked beautiful, because of course he did, but in the way that an ice sculpture was beautiful. She became frightened to hold him in case he would crack. Swallowing hard, she entreated, 

“I know you’re cold. And you can’t remember anything. But I can help you get warm again. I can help you leave.”

“I can leave,” he murmured. Stephanie looked down at what he was doing. “I just have to spell a word and then she said I can go.”

Stephanie nodded, trying to work with what information he gave.

“Okay. What’s the word? Maybe I can help.”

“Eternity. But... There’s a piece missing. See?”

Very quickly, as if he had done it a dozen times, he arranged the fragments into the word. It was only then that she saw how badly he was bleeding. The shards were sharp, and with every touch he sliced a bit more of his hands open on their rough edges. Stephanie cried out in horror.

“Baby, no.” She tried to move his hands away, so he would stop hurting himself, but as coldly as he had done several weeks ago, he slapped her hands away. The impact stung her frigid fingers and splattered bright red blood in a spray across the floor.

Exhausted, cold, in pain, and terrified, Stephanie burst into tears. Tim ignored her and carried on examining the pieces. Stephanie, still in his lap, fell forward, cheek knocking against his brow bone. She sobbed loudly, right hand wrapped around his neck and feeling his thick black hair. He didn’t push her away, finding her more a distraction than a nuisance, and wet tears fell off her skin and hit his own.

In the empty round room, her cries echoed. Stephanie loathed the sound. She did what she normally would do when upset with Tim in the room, she nuzzled his head, tear stained cheeks wetting his own, and curled her hand over his heart. Normally, normally, _normally_ , Tim would scoop her up. Gentle and trembling with empathy, he refused to let her suffer alone. Now she may as well have been propped up against a brick wall.

Distantly, she heard something ping off the ice floor, high pitched and small sounding. Then stiffly, she felt Tim shift under her.

“...Steph don’t cry. Why’re you...”

Stephanie leaned back after hearing Tim’s soft whisper and saw he was looking at her, eyebrows drawn up in his worried frown. His face was wet, her tears forming streaks down from his own eyes.

Not understanding how he remembered her name, she just stared as he raised a hand to brush her cheek. She watched as he registered that his hands were running red with blood, naked panic and horror flooding his blue eyes. _Blue_ eyes. His face grew red, flushed from the heat of his blood warming his skin. He looked to Steph for an explanation, then, impossibly, his eyes grew wider.

“Oh my God! Your hair! You chopped it? But it was so pretty! What is going –” Tim moved back, a thousand memories overwhelming him. Doing his best to orientate himself, he methodically noted where he was sat, what Stephanie was wearing, how cold it was, his blood covered hands, everything. He then looked back to Stephanie and saw the fragile hope in her expression. He recognized that look, to his partial disappointment. It was her face whenever he apologised for wronging her. She was so forgiving, that he knew every time he genuinely was contrite it would be forgiven and forgotten. Even when he failed to match up to his first apology, so long as she saw he was trying, she would readily forgive once more.

But he had been so cruel to her…

His shoulders sagged, disgusted with himself, “I’m so sorry about the flowers. I didn’t want to do that. I would never do that. I couldn’t touch yours, but I ruined mine and I’m so sorry… You wanted us to look after them. I’m sorry.” His voice warbled and broke, and he sniffed in the cold.

Stephanie wailed and threw herself into his arms. Seeing it was staining her blouse but also seeing that Steph was upset in a way he rarely saw her, he gripped her tightly, and pressed kiss after kiss to her face until she started to laugh. Good. Her laughter echoing round the hall was much better than her cries.

“Tim, you’re here, we can go home now. Please, let’s go home.”

Twisting them upwards Tim nodded, rubbing his hands on her bare legs in an attempt to warm them up. This seemed to trigger a thought in Stephanie and she gasped, separating from him just enough to tug off a pair of gloves. When she did, the impossible cold hit her harder, and she felt her muscles seize up. Crap. They really had been protecting her from the cold. They needed to leave, and fast. If her legs even worked anymore.

“My gloves! Steph you brought them all this way? Wherever this way is…”

“Here, put them on. You’re cold.”

Tim saw how sluggishly she was moving. Memories were still coming back. He couldn’t stop thinking of how horrid he had been before leaving; he’d grabbed her and pulled her and insulted her and kicked her and…

He remembered trying a kiss once he understood that magic was messing with his head in a desperate attempt to break whatever was freezing his body. He remembered the weird woman who did nothing but stare at him all day, occasionally having conversations that went in circles with no end (he just wanted to go home). He remembered Stephanie collapsing through the door at the top of the stairs, tumbling down when she couldn’t support her weight. She’d crawled over to him.

Tim knew what hypothermia looked like. She was getting close to freezing. And to say nothing of himself. Warmth may have returned, but it would not stay with just a t-shirt and jeans.

“I’m doing better than you! Your toes—”

Stephanie thrust the gloves at him.

“You have to. It has my hair in it.”

“What.”

“Magic, Tim. Please, I think you have to wear them.”

He did as he was told, and immediately gripped her feet, trying to warm her toes. It was a good thing the gloves were black, but he could feel them growing damp. He groaned, seeing all he was managing to do was cover Stephanie in rapidly cooling blood.

“The witch—”

Tim jerked backwards and Stephanie cut herself off. She watched the lightbulb ping over his head.

“Something fell,” he muttered.

“Huh?”

Tim crawled around her on the floor. “Something fell out my eye. I think it’s the last piece of her puzzle. She thought she was being clever, the last piece to my freedom being the thing that was keeping me here.”

“How did it come out?” Stephanie twisted around so she could get a better view of what Tim was looking for. Her arm gave way, and Tim caught her, propping her against his body as he slowly moved around. She shifted and held as tight as she could onto the fabric of his shirt. Already his skin was turning red from the cold, skin and hair risen in a desperate attempt to warm him up. He would start shivering soon. “Tim, we have to go.”

Maybe they could get to her car down below at the river. Or maybe the old woman would send help once they got so far from the castle. The palace was still glowing with the colours of the night sky, so at least there was no storm for now.

“We will,” Tim reassured. “I just want to play by her rules, so we don’t get caught out. But it – _ow_! Argh, not another cut… Found it.” Crawling behind her, he held up the tiny piece of glass for her to inspect. Blearily, she saw it was about half the size of a pea.

“ _That_ was in your eye? But there was nothing… I looked and Alfred looked and…” She trailed off, head hanging limp on her shoulders.

Tim leaned over her, wrapping one arm around her waist to hold her upright, and slid the last piece of ice into place on the ground. It belonged in the junction of a ‘T’, and when he did, the word melted away, leaving nothing more than a puddle on the floor. Tim snorted, smug, then turned to Stephanie.

“Let’s go.”

Tim got to his feet, trying to give Stephanie a helping hand, but her ankles could not hold her up, and she collapsed in a heap at his feet. He curled around and under her, fully intending to cart her up and out himself.

Stephanie groaned, “Can’t… Tim… I’m too tired. I can feel my body heat getting bad. Aw man... What if I go crazy and start running around naked.”

“No paradoxical undressing, please Steph.”

“I promise.”

Tim went to pick her up. He was cold, yes, but not anywhere near the state that Steph was in. Maybe there _was_ something special about the gloves.

“Come on, Steph, you can do it. You came this far. Keep going.” Tim lifted her arms around his shoulders, and she held on tight, crying out at the pain. “Come on, sweetheart,” he begged.

“ _This_ is your heart?”

Tim faltered, Stephanie whimpering as they slipped back to the floor. Tim held still, pressing Stephanie against his chest, trying to share his warmth with her. The witch, with her familiar features in a way he couldn’t place, had returned from wherever she had gone. Slowly in her grand gown and bare feet, she walked into his eye line. She was watching Stephanie, who still had enough presence of mind to glare back. Appearing bored, the witch looked to Tim.

“The magic in those gloves Tim only protects the wearer for a short amount of time. My home doesn’t like intruders. It works to put them down… like rabid dogs.”

“Then we’ll leave.” Tim stated. The witch’s mouth twitched in an imitation of a smile.

“I suppose you did beat the puzzle. So, you want an exchange for her? She’s very close to dying. I can stop that.”

“She’s coming with me. I beat your rigged jigsaw. Let me go home with her.”

The woman got down on her knees and caught Stephanie’s hazy gaze again. The witch was frowning, confused.

“Why did you come all this way?”

Stephanie tried to snark back but found she did not have the energy. Her skin felt damp, like she was sweating, and even the act of blinking was difficult.

Breathing shallowly, she managed to speak through a strangled throat, “He doesn’t belong to you. He belongs with me and his family. He belongs wherever he wants, and you took his choice away.”

“So?”

It took a moment for her to respond, Tim fussing over her worriedly. “I love him. Couldn’t let him go.”

“Steph...” Tim breathed. Recklessly, he pushed a kiss to her temple, and she sighed happily. Deliriously. Then she went completely limp in his arms, passed out from the cold. Tim made a noise which sounded like a dying animal and shook her violently. If she became unconscious, she would not wake up ever again.

The witch’s expression trembled.

“She’s dying,” she said simply. “And I don’t think she should.”

When she reached for Stephanie, looking like she was going to press a hand to Stephanie’s breast, Tim reacted violently. He grabbed the witch’s hand and pushed it away. He got the feeling that under normal circumstances, he would have been unable to match her strength, but something about his gloved grip made her shriek, the sound akin to shattering ice. Tim’s blood stained her white skin and she backed up to standing, pain ruining her beautiful features.

“Don’t touch her,” he threatened. It was the coldest thing he’d said to the witch in all his weeks here.

The witch looked at her burning arm, then back to Tim.

“You beat my puzzle. She came to bring you home. And yet you’re acting as if you want your heart to die? Someone has used magick to connect the two of you. If one passes the other is not long to follow. Is that what you want?” Annoyance flickered across her expression, almost like she was a disappointed mother. Finally, Tim clicked on who her features resembled. Feeling chided, he averted his gaze.

“You can stop her from freezing?”

“I can take the cold away.”

“And you swear we both can leave after?”

Her cold fingers brushed his cheek, causing him to shiver.

“I swear. I don’t want any more dead humans in my home. It grieves me too much.”

Feeling no sympathy for the woman, but knowing she was his only chance at leaving with Stephanie (alive), Tim agreed. Gritting his teeth, Tim propped Stephanie up in his arms. She blinked, momentarily regaining consciousness, only to pass out again. Kneeling in front of them, the witch pushed Stephanie’s bangs off her forehead. She admired the girl’s face. A pretty little thing. Seemingly suicidal in her devotion. Too young to be a corpse.

“I don’t understand,” she admitted. Her pale eyes investigated Tim’s blue. He did not trust her one bit. “I don’t understand humans at all. Your love for each other, why she came here, why your hearts have been intertwined by someone, how it fought against my magic, why you want to leave… I don’t understand.”

Tim glared at her, murderous. “You understand the cold, right? And I know you’re powerful, so make her warm again. Warm enough to leave here with me. You don’t have to understand us, just bring her back and let us go. Fix your mistake...”

He trailed off, but his unspoken conclusion of ‘ _or else’_ hung in the air. The witch looked down at those gloves, knowing what would happen if he managed to wrap his hands around her neck.

The witch blinked, expression carefully controlled as ever, and placed a hand over Stephanie’s heart. The witch pressed down on Stephanie’s sternum with such a force that Tim thought her breastbone would crack, but when the witch lifted her hand, ice floated upwards in her palm. She tossed it upwards carelessly, and it begun to snow in the throne room.

Tim looked down at Stephanie, who flushed with colour once more, gasped, and twitched violently, curling up into a ball. Tim gave a wordless cry and pulled her upwards, carrying her as he got to his feet.

The witch remained on the floor, watching the two embrace. A minute passed as they spoke quietly to each other, whispering sweet nothings that the witch was not party to, then Stephanie indicated she wanted to be returned to her feet. Tim set her down slowly, reluctantly, seeing that she was still shivering from the cold.

“I don’t understand,” the witch said once more as she rose up. Stephanie, unsure of what to do, stood defensively in front of Tim. The witch shook her head, mystified, “What makes humans so sweet. None of you can survive up here with me. But I want…”

“You’re lonely, aren’t you?” Stephanie asked. She sounded sincere in her question, to Tim’s surprise.

“…Maybe.” The witch looked at the dripping floor, both in melting ice and watery blood. She looked at the pair and inclined her head.

“Leave. I will try again with another human later. One with a… less determined partner and less conflicting magic getting in the way. Not worth the pains.”

“I’d rather you didn’t,” Stephanie pushed. The witch smiled coldly, finding her amusing. She made her way to the narrow stairs leading to her throne.

“Humans are so wonderfully stubborn. A shame I can’t keep such a pretty pair. A promise is a promise. Leave now. You got what you came for. Tell Anya her little lesson has been learnt. I am well and truly chided.”

“Anya?” Stephanie asked.

“Oh. Did you not get her name? I can smell that woman’s smoky hut stench anywhere. That and her weaving magic… Sending you here with so few clothes on to make me feel _guilt_ … Interesting risk.”

Stephanie looked taken aback, but Tim had had enough. It was still cold enough to kill, magic castle or no magic castle.

“We’re leaving.”

“That’s fine,” the witch said, giving no indication on whether it truly was fine or not according to her tone. “Hurry off now, go be with the family with whom you belong.”

Taking Stephanie’s hand, Tim tugged her towards the main steps. Looking back as they ran, Stephanie watched the witch who remained still in the centre of the room. She looked very alone to Stephanie. Tim did not look back.

When they reached the front door, the hole Stephanie had managed to rip open had healed itself, but it did not make much difference, as one firm push from Tim threw the doors open, to the point where Stephanie noted that he cracked the hinges as he did so. The pair, still holding hands, ran across the bridge. Stephanie gasped with joy when she saw who was waiting for them by the holly berry bushes.

“Abie!” Stephanie cried out. Jumping from side to side was a large reindeer, carrying a number of goods on his back. “Oh, Abie! You came back _and_ brought me my shoes! Oh, good boy!”

Tim found himself gifted a very thick coat, which he threw on with a heavenly sigh. Stephanie had her tights and boots returned, as well as her lovely thick coat and a new pair of gloves.

Tim pat the reindeer’s nose as Stephanie got dressed. “You took her all this way huh?”

“Part of the way,” she said as she hopped up onto Abie’s back. “Can you carry both of us Abie?”

He lowered his neck, almost encouraging Tim to clamber on too. He did, seating himself behind Stephanie, and wrapped his arms around her waist.

“You know how to get home?” He asked as they began the ascent back up the valley. Abie was not able to run with two people on his back, but the pair were warm, and the sky was clear, so they did not worry.

“No,” Stephanie confessed. “I guess we’ll just have to go back the way I came.”

“Makes sense.” Tim kissed her cheek once more. “Thank you for coming for me.”

Stephanie pressed herself back against his chest in an attempt to cuddle.

“Always.”

They did not speak much on the journey back, for the moment doing nothing more than enjoying the other’s company. Tim put his chin on Stephanie’s shoulder and watched the stars. The sun rising announced that they were close to their first resting place. Abie took them back to Anya’s little hut, who Stephanie threw herself into a tight hug with when she emerged to meet them.

“I did it! Thank you. Thank you.”

“Yes, I can see that,” she said as she rocked Stephanie from side to side. Looking upwards, Tim saw the cheeky twinkle in the woman’s dark eyes. “You must be Tim.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Tim slid of Abie a little reluctantly, but trusted Stephanie’s judgement of character. Stephanie was good, of course she was, but she would have needed help along the way. She didn’t carry the self-destructive pride that some members of the family held. If help was available to her, she would take it. She didn’t have a chip on her shoulder regarding self-sufficiency.

“Oh, _ma’am_. Wow. Come in. Sleep for the night and eat. You have a long journey ahead of you.”

They were given what seemed to Tim like a hole in the wall to sleep in. He did crawl in, enjoying the sweltering warmth of the cabin, but before he could totally doze off, Anya asked to see his hands. Stephanie remained sat by the oven and fire, her toes becoming warm once more. Whatever the cold was out there, it seemed as much driven by magic as actual low temperatures. Both Tim and Stephanie should have died, and yet one bowl of stew and sauna level heat later they both felt as good as new.

Well, almost.

When Tim had been given the all clear to remove his gloves, the old lady hissed at the still sore cuts which oozed.

“I can fix that and clean your gloves up,” she’d said. “There’s a place I go to do my laundry. There’s a very good soap there for all blood related issues. I’ll be gone overnight as it is a bit of a trek. Don’t leave this place no matter what. I’ll be back with the next sunrise.”

He nodded obediently, and off she went. Abie continued to snooze by the fire, but eventually Stephanie joined Tim in the little compartment. Happy to once more have his beating heart next to her, Stephanie sighed happily. Tim, on the other hand, was brooding.

“Steph?”

“Mm?”

“You… you believe me about the flowers, right? That I would never smash something like that? Because I wouldn’t. Even if we were having a really bad argument. It was awful, like I could feel myself slipping away and I got so confused and angry and… I’m sorry.”

Stephanie pressed a kiss directly over his heart. “I believe you, and it doesn’t matter. Poison Ivy has them now.” She laughed a little at his mortified face, explaining, “I didn’t know where to start looking for you. I thought Ivy might have had a lead. It was a waste of time, all she would tell me was that the storm wasn’t from our Earth and then she took the flowers and threw me out the greenhouse… It was Klarion who sent me over.”

“You know Klarion?”

“ _You_ know Klarion? I helped one time when I think his cat was in heat or something.” Stephanie smirked at the memories. “Hey, do I taste like Christmas to you?”

“What?”

“Nothing. Anyway, Klarion sent me here and gave me the means to find you.” Stephanie tapped her heart. It had settled down in its painful beatings once Tim was in her arms, though even now she was reluctant to look away for even a moment, not sure if he would disappear once more.

“What did he do?”

“I don’t know, slapped me in the chest and then it ached all the time to be without you. Pointed me in the right direction and only now is the pain gone. Like an internal compass.”

“I’ll need to thank him.”

Stephanie’s warm breathy laughter brushed his clavicle. “If we can find him, or wait for him to find us. Think that’s it for me permanently. You’re literally in my heart.”

“The witch kept saying you were mine. I wonder if it goes both ways.”

“That sounds very romantic,” she giggled. “But probably dangerous. We really should find Klarion when we get back.”

Tim rolled slightly, so Stephanie lay on her back under him. He took a long look at her, inspecting her closely.

“Your hair looks nice.”

She scoffed, “Don’t lie.”

“It does! I forget how…poofy it can be.”

“It _was_ too long. Bruce’ll be pleased.”

Rolling his eyes, Tim kissed her rosy cheeks, “Never mind him.” They kissed, hidden in their little hidden crook, when a sudden thought came to Stephanie. Chewing her lip, she decided to take a chance. Stephanie’s hand pulled Tim’s own down under the covers, encouraging him to touch her. He blinked, trying to catch up with her wordless request, and asked, “You’re sure? Now?”

He heard her gulp nervously, but she smiled and nodded. Tim peered out of their little bed. When he looked back, she saw his reluctance.

“Bad timing?” she conceded.

“Maybe…maybe when there’s not a snoozing reindeer in the corner. I…can’t with an audience.”

The laughter that bubbled out of Stephanie made Tim relax, and she pulled him down into an embrace.

“A cuddle then. Missed these for a few weeks.”

“Me too.”

“What do you remember Tim?”

Pressed against her chest, Stephanie heard Tim sigh. She ran her fingers through his hair as he told his story. “I remember everything. Felt like being shot in the head. And then I just didn’t want anyone to touch me. Everything was loud and busy and annoying. I just wanted to go home. And everything was freezing, and I couldn’t get warm. And she was in my head, talking to me.”

“Can you hear anything now?”

His reply was a definitive and calm, “No. But I was so bored, and even though you were warm you were boring me. And I could tell that something wasn’t right. You’re a lot of things Steph, but you’re not boring.”

“Wow,” she snorted.

“I thought it was magic, so I just… after I ruined my roses, after I kicked you, I tried kissing you. But it was awful. I thought – if it was magic – all the stories say a kiss solves it all, right? But I saw your face and you were upset and I… I was apathetic. So, I left. And then it was just weeks of me sitting on the floor and her watching me. She’d ask me questions but I don’t think I answered them the way she wanted. I kept remembering things I shouldn’t have and kept trying to leave.” Distantly, absent-mindedly, he smiled. “I was remembering you; I was trying to leave to go to you. No matter how many times she’d try and freeze me up… I just wanted to go home. I kept thinking of long golden hair,” he ruffled her raggedy mop to which she giggled, “and your laugh. I couldn’t put a face or name to the images, but I remembered you.”

Stephanie blushed, and Tim continued,

“I guess it’s why I was so desperate to finish that puzzle. There was a chance I could go. I had to do it. I had to.”

“And you did.”

“Thanks to you. Your crying washed the last piece out of my eye.”

“Oh. Well, you’re welcome.”

Tim’s hand crept up, resting over her heartbeat. He could feel it thrumming away, fragile and yet so reliable.

“Whatever Klarion did when he showed you how to find me… it saved me.”

“And me. You have no idea how many times I got pulled off course. I would have been here _weeks_ ago but…” she trailed off, then shook her head. “There was this woman and she made me get stuck with her. She was lonely and wanted a daughter. I fit the bill. It was nice…to be looked after for a while.” She looked down and tightened her fist that was resting against Tim’s chest. “But not as nice as moments like this. I had a job to do. And I’m not a little kid. But I felt like I was breaking this woman’s heart to leave and… I kept thinking of my mom. Of how she’s probably thinking I’ve gone and died again. God…”

Tim said nothing at her little ramble, only brushed his hand through her hair. Stephanie huffed, blowing a piece of her fringe off her forehead cutely.

“Most everyone I’ve met helped me along the way. It was kind of weird actually. Everyone reminded me of someone back home. Felt like going through a weird cliffs notes version of my life.”

Tim nodded, “You know who the ice witch reminded me of?”

“Who?”

He looked distracted and disturbed when he replied, retreating into that place in his mind she could never reach.

“My mom,” he whispered.

Stephanie looked at him worriedly, “Really?”

“Not in personality. Mom – when she was around – was much better at being a mom then dad was at being a dad… it was all in her face. Her features. She looked like mom.” He sounded vaguely disgusted with himself and rubbed at his eyes. “It was confusing.”

Stephanie laughed again, and at Tim’s questioning look she wheezed, “This whole thing is confusing.”

“Another day in the life, huh?”

“Oh, don’t even. I know our lives are a mess, but that doesn’t make it easier. But still… I did it.” She kissed him, long and slow. Tiredness was creeping in, and their movements became lethargic. “I found you,” she whispered, a smile against Tim’s lips.

Tim kissed her again, then the pair settled down. He brushed his fingers over her features, relief and comfort flowing freely through his being. He smiled softly.

“You found me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Time: _  
>  “And where did that dress come from? And your hair! Did you hack at it with a knife?”_
> 
> _“...Yes,” Stephanie grumbled. Crystal continued as if she had not spoken._
> 
> _“...And for what? Him?” Crystal yelled as Stephanie blinked, taken a little aback by the level of ranting her mother exhibited. “Believe me when I say I understand you won’t be dissuaded Stephanie from these masks, but I am just asking that you give me warning before you disappear for two months and maybe ask yourself if – if a boy is worth all this! I am going to have a stroke one day from the stress of this you know!”_
> 
> _Bruce blinked, knowing better than to get involved, even if his gut instinct was to defend Tim. It wasn’t like the boy had decided to go on a life-threatening trip. Tim gulped, but Stephanie held onto Tim’s hand tightly._
> 
> _“He needed help mom. End of.”_


	9. A Journey Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim and Stephanie go home and take a breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a happy ending guys!

_There was once upon a time_   
_And all people have stories their own_   
_Let her take all she wants, set him behind_   
_It’s not your fairy tale, no_   
_Have him take all he wants, don’t be afraid_   
_All these are part of you_

Sketchbook by Janet Suhh

* * *

Cassandra could be just as obsessive as her brothers. She may have been a little quieter about it, but an instance where her best friend and closest brother had gone missing two months ago had lent itself very neatly to her sitting by Kane bridge all day every day, watching, waiting for them to arrive back home. Sometimes Duke would join her, when he didn’t have school or some daytime mission to attend to, and the pair would sit in silence, watching the water. The storm and its heavy snowfall had long since gone, nothing more than an interesting memory for most of the residents of the city.

It had not taken long for Batman to track down and threaten Klarion into returning Tim and Stephanie in one piece (when he was determined to find someone, he found them). But Klarion had been of no help, simply stating that both were alive, and to let them be. If disaster struck, he would be sure to inform them. It was a difficult task, certainly, but Batman should have some faith in his underlings.

Bruce had shaken Klarion until Teekl had intervened, and the pair had vanished since. Efforts with other, friendlier, magic users had not yielded any results. So, Bruce had taken his frustration out on the innocent crooks of Gotham. Being told to sit back and wait did not sit right with the family, but it seemed that was what they must do. No news was good news according to Klarion.

Bruce’s February birthday bled into Dick’s own late March birthday, which in turn became April. It was on the at 3pm on the 12th of April, a day when both Cassandra and Duke were watching the water, Cassandra up high, perched and hidden from sight on the bridge's girders, Duke, sat on the pebbly beach, that Bruce rolled up in one of his fancy cars. Cassandra stayed in place whilst Duke went to greet the billionaire.

As always it was windy down by the water, stripping away any warmth the spring had brought with it. Chewing his lip, Duke shook his head at Bruce, and saw, even if he was trying to hide it, a slight look of hope become dashed.

Bruce collapsed onto the pebbles himself, work suit and all, and Duke joined him.

“Tomorrow we are going to find Klarion again. No more games.”

Duke nodded vigorously. “Good. How many of us are coming?”

“All of you. I’m not interested in his silly nursery rhymes or his damn cat getting in the way –”

Cassandra’s wail, words stolen from her, made them both look up to her, then across to what she had seen. She leapt down several levels, creeping out further over the bay.

“Cassandra!” Duke howled, “What do you see?”

She took a moment to respond, then she looked back to Bruce, yelling, “It’s them! It’s them!”

Two heads broke the surface of the disgusting water, and even from as far away as they were, the black-haired boy and blonde girl were unmistakably Tim and Stephanie. Cassandra continued to yell towards them, trying to catch their attention. She saw and heard Tim bounce enthusiastically. He whooped, waving up and across the bay when he saw who was waiting. Stephanie meanwhile moved so she could cling to Tim’s back. Even from this distance, Cassandra could see she was tired.

Bruce’s stomach dropped in painful relief, and he shouted their names, encouraging them to come to shore. He saw them bob in the water, then slowly, steadily, begin the swim across the river.

Duke gasped and fumbled to find his phone. He strangled out,

“The others, I have to tell the others!”

Watching them swim that last mile was intolerably painful. Cassandra, nearly unable to bear waiting for them to reach land, moved back towards shore, jumping down the levels until she reached the beach and Duke and Bruce. Duke was on the phone to anyone and everyone in the know, telling them that the young pair had found their way back, and to meet at the Manor when they could. Bruce, who was in the process of ripping off his shoes and jacket, was unable to wait for his children to reach the beach themselves.

He ran out into the cold water at the same time that Tim and Stephanie managed to reach a shallow enough area to walk. Tim seemed to be holding out better than Stephanie, who struggled to get to her feet. The pair stumbled straight into Bruce’s arms, and the three collapsed back into the water, holding on tight.

“You’re both here,” Bruce gasped disbelievingly. Tim was pressed in a tight hug against his chest, Stephanie burrowed in between his shoulder and neck. He noted that, aside from Stephanie’s drastic haircut and a general air of exhaustion, the two were unharmed. Stephanie was holding very tight to Tim’s wrist, seemingly unable to let go.

Behind him, Bruce heard Cassandra and Duke running out to join them. The water was cold, as it was still only April, and filthy, but the family could not find it in them to care.

“I’m sorry Bruce…” Stephanie mumbled, sounding close to tears. “I lost your scarf.”

He would have dismissed it out of hand, but Cassandra body slamming the group and Duke splashing next to them did not allow him to reassure her.

“You’re home!” Cassandra crowed. “You’re home, you’re home, you’re home!”

Tim snickered and hugged his sister, letting go of Stephanie. Bruce did not miss her aching gasp as he did so.

“How much time did we miss?” Tim asked.

“Two _months_ ,” Duke breathed, tugging Stephanie onto her feet and out of the cold water. Stephanie immediately whirled so she could see Tim in the river with Cassandra, only half listening to Duke when he continued, “We were close to using the nuclear option. How did you get back?”

“We got to the river and jumped. Came back the way she came.” Tim went back to Bruce, shivering in the cold water. Bruce picked Tim up, and together they walked back to shore. Trying to make Bruce understand, Tim pushed, “Steph did it, Bruce. All by herself. She found me and saved me.”

“Not entirely by myself. I had a lot of help along the way.” As they trudged to shore, Stephanie wrung out her short hair. Cassandra immediately ran her hands through it, face showing blatant curiosity. Stephanie shook her head, looking like a golden retriever drying herself, then backed off so she could stand next to Tim again. “It’s a long story.”

“I need to hear all of it,” Bruce pushed.

Duke counteracted, “But let’s go home first. I’ve called everyone, they’ll be on their way to the Manor.”

Tim’s chest bloomed with warmth at the thought of Alfred and Babs and even Damian. Stephanie, red cheeked from the cold, also smiled but then it froze, and cracked.

“Home,” she agreed, looking guilt stricken. “I need to go to mom.”

“I’ll call her. I’ve been keeping her in the loop Stephanie, don’t worry about that. You did good.” Bruce’s determined and confident tone set her at ease, leading her to hugging Bruce tightly. Ruffling her wet hair, he murmured, “Not sure about the hair though.”

Despite her exhaustion, stress and general overwhelming events of the past eight weeks, Stephanie managed a bright laugh.

“We’re home!”

* * *

Tim had not been lectured by a mother in what was probably a decade, however the rantings of a rarely worked up Crystal Brown somehow felt deeply familiar (and oddly comforting to have someone even care that much).

It must have looked a little odd to the rest of the family, Crystal Brown, pink turtleneck and white work coat on, ranting in a manner that – knowing Mrs Brown’s usually placid nature – meant she was really ticked off. Bruce was a black dressed column behind her, nodding emphatically with his arms crossed. Tim and Stephanie were sitting, still damp and smelly from the river, on some priceless loveseat, looking like a pair of drowned rats. Tim found his shoes very interesting. Stephanie was pouting at her mother as Crystal got more and more heated.

“And _where_ did that dress come from? And your hair! Did you hack at it with a knife?”

“...Yes,” Stephanie grumbled. Crystal continued as if she had not spoken.

“...And for what? Him?” Crystal yelled as Stephanie blinked, taken a little aback by the level of ranting her mother exhibited. “Believe me when I say I understand you won’t be dissuaded Stephanie from these masks, but I am just asking that you give me warning before you disappear for two months and maybe ask yourself if – if a _boy_ is worth all this! I am going to have a stroke one day from the stress of this you know!”

Bruce blinked, knowing better than to get involved, even if his gut instinct was to defend Tim. It wasn’t like the boy had decided to go on a life-threatening trip. Tim gulped, but Stephanie held onto Tim’s hand tightly.

“He needed help mom. End of discussion.”

Crystal snorted derogatively. “You could have given me some warning before going off on another suicide run.”

Stephanie blanched and Tim grimaced. Bruce sighed, like he was about to start speaking his piece, but Crystal was not done.

“I want you to move back home.”

Tim finally looked up at Crystal, whilst Stephanie’s mouth dropped open.

“What?”

Crystal’s voice wavered as she said, “You heard me,” and even to Stephanie she sounded unsure if it was a viable solution to her worries.

Tim felt Stephanie’s hand twitch around his own. Guilt rose, making his throat choked up. He imagined if Stephanie was standing, she would be stomping her feet.

“Mommy, I love you but no way.”

Bruce coughed awkwardly, “Perhaps if we took a day or two before –”

“Maybe you should, Steph.” Tim quietly interrupted. Stephanie whipped her head round from glaring at her mother to stare at Tim, mouth dropped open. Tim gave the weak explanation, “It’s my fault, and maybe it’d be better for you if...”

Stephanie’s nostrils flared, and she frowned. When she spoke, unlike her mother, there was no doubt in her rebuttal.

“No, it is absolutely _not_. You didn’t choose to be hurt like that. You didn’t choose to be taken away. It’s not your fault. I _did_ choose to bring you home. I chose to go on that journey. I could have said no, but I didn’t. My choice, my agency. You and my mom don’t get to send me away because of misplaced guilt.”

They had a wordless conversation, Tim guilt ridden, Stephanie confident and entreating. She knew what he was doing. Thinking of himself as a burden when he was anything but. She reached over and took his other hand and Tim felt his eyes sting wet.

“Stephanie,” Crystal pushed one last time. She did not sound cruel, or unreasonable, just deeply worried. “I don’t know what I have to do to get through to you.”

Stephanie looked at her mother, mournful. Finally, she said, “I won’t move back in with you. I want to stay with Tim.”

Tim was mistaken, there was nothing comforting or familiar about the look Crystal was giving them. Like her only daughter, the daughter she had already lost once, was a ticking time bomb. And _Tim_ was the one with the clock counting down the minutes.

Part of him wished that Stephanie had left him in the cold.

But then Crystal left, as she was unable to bear the argument anymore. To Tim’s partial shock, Bruce was not far behind her to try and say his piece, as if now was the best time to actually contribute and speak to Stephanie’s mother. A moment of silence passed after the door clicked shut, then Stephanie fell forward onto her knees, crying. Hands hovering over her shoulders, reluctant to comfort her if she did not want it, Tim gulped.

“Steph, I… I’m so–”

“Don’t,” she interrupted, no bite to her tone. Instead, all Tim heard was exhaustion. She kept her head down and, quietly sobbing to herself, said, “Don’t you dare.”

* * *

Tim was not party to Stephanie and Crystal’s follow up conversation the next day. He felt like he did not deserve to be. However, whatever had been exchanged allowed Tim and Stephanie to return to their apartment. He contemplated speaking to Crystal himself, but a sharp look from Stephanie had killed that idea stone dead.

At least, after one week of questions, hugs, praises, warnings, and overly nervous parenting from Bruce, Tim and Stephanie were allowed to go home. Their first night back Tim had stared _at_ the window, not out of, only looking away when a message from Duke invited them out to patrol.

Getting back to normality he supposed. Stephanie had taken one look at the message, sighed, then shook her head. She had been down in the dumps all week, and though Tim thought patrol might do her good, she refused.

“You go,” she pushed. “I need an extra day or two. Then we’ll go together?”

Tim looked back at the windowsill, an idea forming in his head, then nodded. He needed to go, to get back into the literal swing of things. He was ready. She needed just a bit more time. For once, it seemed Tim was quite willing to _try_ and put everything behind him, but Stephanie was not. She had a lot of catching up to do as Stephanie Brown, and she didn’t have the pre-made excuse of being the somewhat flighty son of a billionaire who had a habit of disappearing for months at a time. Apparently, according to some gossip sites, her and Tim had eloped and had a two-month honeymoon in Curaçao. Stephanie very much would have preferred that lie to the truth.

An issue continued to plague her in the week that she had returned. Bruce had called it out early on, and even now she still chided herself when she was caught doing it.

She couldn’t bear for Tim not to be in her line of sight. She was petrified that the minute she turned away, the moment he shut the door behind him, he would be stolen away once more. Tim knew that she was struggling a little, but he felt no overwhelming need for space. But how to prove he would not be taken or leave again? Especially as the first time wasn’t exactly planned. They could only take things one day at a time, and her encouraging him to go on patrol without her was a massive show of faith. Tim hoped she knew how much he appreciated it.

Tim lingered around her a little anxiously before he left that night. Not being subtle at all, he watched her comb her hair, finding the static cloud of blonde a little amusing, then he watched her brush her teeth and wash her face. In a deliberate effort to cheer her up, he insisted she wear his sweater to bed.

“It’ll make me happy,” he said.

Steph knew what he was trying to do, but she nodded. Tim smelled like comfort, and it would do until the real him was home. He kissed her very sweetly, then promised he would be back.

Stephanie smiled, but in the back of her head she could not shake the feeling that once he was out of her sight again, he would not come back. Tim tried to ignore how washed out she looked. He tried to ignore how guilty he felt.

He carefully shut the bedroom door behind him, heading down to the Nest, and Stephanie lay in silence. Eventually exhaustion won out over anxiety and she fell asleep before Tim came back home.

She would not wake until ten the next morning. When she did, she found Tim resting a hand on her cheek. His fingers were warm, and she sighed sharply, almost like a cry. Her heartbeat settled. He’d returned to her.

She understood somewhere at the back of her mind that this anxiety would not leave so easily. It would take some time before she would feel comfortable letting Tim out of her sight for long, but she _had_ to do it. It wasn’t like she could shackle him to her leg. She felt Tim shift on the bed sheets next to her, as if he had been watching her sleep and now recognized she was awake.

“Morning,” she croaked.

“Morning. Come on,” he replied, hand moving up to her hair. He stroked it in a calming motion for a moment or two, until he spoke again, voice quiet. “I’ve got something to show you.”

She could practically hear the smile in his voice. She would have happily gotten up, but found she was still too tired, like her five hours of sleep was restless. When she sighed and raised her arms like a child, Tim scooped her up from her warm cocoon and carried her down the stairs to the living room. Setting her down near the lounge window, he waited for her drowsiness to dissipate and for her to realise what was on the windowsill.

He snorted a laugh at the sight of her, frizzy hair defying gravity, in thick cotton shorts and his fading black sweater. Her cheeks were flushed pink and he caught glimpses of sleep that she scrubbed away as she yawned.

She blinked, rubbing her eyes once more, then did a double take.

“Our flowers!”

There, sat in two separate boxes, were her lilac roses and Tim’s red. Tim smiled, a little smug, and she tottered over to them. The red, which had been struggling when she had given them up, were thriving in their home. Stroking the petals, she looked back to Tim. Her eyes were damp, but she was smiling,

“How’d you convince Ivy?”

Tim shrugged, playing the humble boyfriend. “Wasn’t too hard actually,” he explained. “I went as Tim, not Red Robin. She knew who you were, who I was, what we were to each other. I guess she thought I had nerve and thought it was funny.”

Stephanie went back to Tim and pressed his cheeks tightly, making his lips pouty.

“She wouldn’t give up plants for a joke.”

“No.” Tim wrapped one arm around her waist, the other sneaking down her arm to hold her hand. Stephanie welcomed the grip and yawned at the comforting feeling of his solid build around her. Hands slipping back with her elbows resting on his shoulders, she shut her eyes, content, as Tim continued, “But I think she believed me when I said I owed you big time. Understatement maybe but I… Steph. It’s the least I could do. They belong to us. They’re our flowers. You gave them up to find me. You found me, so I took them back. Simple as that.”

“Thank you, Tim.”

Tim did not share her happy tone, murmuring sadly, “You’re welcome. Thank you for coming for me. Even if I think I didn’t deserve it.”

“That’s such a terrible, awful, rotten lie you tell yourself.”

“The flowers aren’t enough though,” he said bitterly. Stephanie’s sad sigh did nothing to deter him, and he rocked them in their embrace from side to side. “You went through hell to find me,” Tim whispered.

She kept her eyes closed. “I hear remorse.”

“Maybe.”

“You would do the same for me.”

“But I didn’t.”

Stephanie opened her eyes finally when Tim let her go. Wringing his hands, Tim looked guilt ridden. “When you… When Leslie took you away. I accepted what I was told. You were gone, one way or another.”

“I don’t really think the two events are comparable.” Gently, put with enough force to make Tim huff, Stephanie punched his gut, trying to smack some perspective into him. “Oh, come on. Don’t tell me my _mother_ of all people is making you --”

“I won’t leave you,” he interrupted firmly. “I... not willingly. I won’t ever be that cruel. I won’t put you through hell. Not for nothing.”

Stephanie frowned, and not for the first time Tim ran his hand through her short hair. He made a little bit of a face when his fingers reached the ends of the strands so quickly. It was enough for Stephanie to tilt her head and give him a look of warning.

“I thought the flowers might help,” he concluded. “You’ll know when something has really gone wrong between us when they wither up and die or something.”

“Like in a fairy-tale.”

“Like in a fairy-tale,” Tim confirmed.

Stephanie glanced back at the pair of boxes of flowers soaking up the dim Gotham sun, then looked back to Tim. She smiled, and in the morning light Tim vaguely thought she looked like she was glowing. Unable to help himself, he kissed her. Even in his misery, Tim knew he wasn’t strong enough to let her go. She made him so happy. Even if he hated what he put her through, she had a staunch desire to stay and he was too selfish to want any other kind of relationship with her. It was her choice, Stephanie said. Their relationship, her love for him, her journey to bring him home. Her choices mattered.

What she saw in him...

The kiss ended too soon for Tim, and when he went forward to try to kiss her again, she leaned away, pressing her fingertips to his lips. Her face had grown solemn.

“Any luck finding Klarion?”

“Huh?”

“His magic is still in – on – me. I don’t think it’s good for me to have an anxiety attack every time you go to the bathroom.”

She was joking, only slightly, but the look in her eye contained a warning. Her fright of being separated from Tim was not going to go away on its own, not so long as that homing beacon of a spell Klarion had cast lingered in her chest.

“You’re frightened it’ll get worse?”

“Look me in the eye and tell me it wouldn’t be just our luck for me to keel over from a heart attack or something because of a stupid spell.” Pressing a hand to his sternum, Stephanie simultaneously stared at his heart whilst also looking right through him. Almost as if speaking to herself, she whispered, “Why is it never easy, Steph?”

Something about her haunted look frightened Tim into action. He pulled her into an embrace, then dragged her over to the sofa to properly hold her. Playing with her fingers, he mused what he could do for her. Determination settled in his mind.

“I can do it. I’ll find him and fix it. My turn to look after you.”

She snorted softly, nuzzling his chest. “Your turn? It doesn’t work like that.”

“Maybe. But you remember what we talked about, back when we were at the garden centre?”

Stephanie frowned absentmindedly, “Disneyland?”

“Kind of. What makes an adult an adult?”

“Oh.” She reached up and returned her hand to the centre of his chest, feeling the solid _thump thump_ under her fingertips. “You have an answer?”

“You first. I wanna see if they match up.”

Stephanie thought about her journey, about who she met and the help and hindrance she endured. She thought about the old woman by the river, and the old woman in the snow. She thought about the lonely little boy and the proud princess. She thought about the self-absorbed witch.

“When you’re a kid, the centre of the world is you. Everything you do is determined by how it will affect yourself. And not even in a selfish way, it’s just you’re not capable of self-sufficiency, so you look to others to help you, to make all the hard decisions for you. Growing up… it’s learning to put others first, right? Or at least… counting yourself as just as important as others? It’s about being able to make those choices to care and carry them through. Does—does that make sense?”

Tim sounded proud when he replied, “Right. It’s why people with bad childhoods have such weird understandings of their place in the world, y’know? So, you take care of me, and I take care of you. We’re not fourteen anymore Steph.”

“No.”

He kissed her forehead. “I promise not to break your heart. I’ll do one better and fix it.”

Scoffing, she pressed her lips to his neck as they embraced. “You don’t half make it skip a beat, Tim.”

He pulled her down, so they were laying on the sofa. Again, he resumed playing with her hair. Regardless of length, that had not changed. Looking to her lips, he kissed her gently, enjoying the puff of her she released when they pecked.

“We’re nearly there,” he whispered.

“Where’s there?” Stephanie grumbled, pulling him back for another smooch. He broke away, a little amused, a little embarrassed.

“Our happily ever after,” he said, cheeks pink. “Isn’t that how it goes?”

Stephanie laughed, loudly and brightly and beautifully. Cradling Tim’s jaw, she rubbed his cheeks with her thumbs. Pressing a slow kiss to his forehead, she whispered, “Sure thing my Prince Charming. We can only hope.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You'll be pleased to know this took four re-writes of wildly different directions so there is literally two and a half versions of this and the previous chapter floating around on my computer and I literally wrote 12,000 words in five days trying to get it right... and urrblurr. At one point Steph died from exposure for a hot second. At one point I described the trip home in way more depth (you may have noticed the preview in the prior chapter has changed). At one point the magic got worse when they arrived back where they literally could not separate due to the tugging in Steph's heart when Tim wasn't around was literally causing atrial fibrillation and the statement of Steph being Tim's heart meant he became numb without her up to scalding himself and not noticing broken ribs on patrol... Ah writing. Ideas...thoughts... concepts... execution.
> 
> Anyway, thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I'm over on tumblr [at the same username](https://incoherentbabblings.tumblr.com/) if you wanna click and follow or chat!


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